This is how it goes tonight…
Pages are spread all over my little hub of thinking. There is much traffic here from present, past and way past my lifetime too.
All I can think about is lives – mine and others.
Each one a chronicle and all together they are another…
The words whisper from pages, photos dance and (borrowed) memories distort…
“warm nights of revolution “
“no air of despair , no sir”
“Elsiani”
“a rotten tooth on a beautiful face”
“the secret of longevity”
“moments of silent recollection”
“seventeen drops of pure blood from here to the other side of the ocean”
“starlit sandsteps”
“…bled early”
“a boy abandoned in a forest in the Unwritten mountains”
“fireworks, lollipops and …talks of innocence..”
“good time friend”
“the Hamlet machine”
And the list goes on… to the sound track of La Lhasa’s , Con Toda Palabra
Good night for now
If my head frees space enough…
