We hear it first. A blank canvas presents its first color ~ pine cone falling. Bird song blurs grey against its needle descent. Landing red.
Your gnostic tousle says yes…
You come from a place, far away from nearby…
Everything is ambiguous - I am in two minds…
Shadows casting people…
The role of the second.
Today more real… Twice.
Only photographers. Recording and forgetting. I am thoughtless, barely here.
I continue to stumble…
Tripping on words,
slipping on cities.
See packages, a sea of boxes. Broken shadows where once there was a flaw.
Wondering these narrow streets
Wandering these broken thoughts
知らない人
Stranger things have happened.