To write to have a thought to breathe to think to be to live in this world where there is wind where there is life and death where we are. Us. People. Existing and being in one space and thinking of being in another where perhaps there is someone else existing at the same moment. Knowing we are small and being of course quite large. Rivers are flowing and music is drifting in ears if someone doesn’t see the river becoming inspired and making the music real the ears do not enjoy this. Tapping and tracing like copying a cat or rather to be one itself, not knowing what cats copy sure is to be it will never be known. Sort of like when whales leap from oceans over caps of white on top of swells of blue having no reason at all for it, of course. Whales shouldn’t need a reason however they do have some of the time. Eating keeps alive those that must also drink of fluids, fluids become of this, at the mention of which some cringe. Conscience of mine twas unconscious at the time…no matter the cricket was there so lend your ears to someone, ought not to be selfish . whizzing and humming with whirls in between seems a busy sort of thing hardly a calm could come of it yet that’s where it was found in her mind. Green that you might find in a field with no pansies grown for them to see. Now shut your eyes and remember to be.
some pictures I took:
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