your ideas come different, you talk of immersion, and security, nothing was further from my mind.
becomes part of the
pattern,
a mark on the horizon.
could change it for another yet it has become
a mantra,
a pause like in breathing.
the words came easily,
accepted for what they were.
chewing started, disapproval
at spontaneity, adding this,
that, all details.
over time, changes
staled, stewed the meaning.
voices.
do you believe in omens?
james ?
pink sky,
slight dampness
hanging.
