My thoughts are scattered into a barren land where snow falls.
The white wind scratches my skin, its old hands wise with suffering.
I will remember these things, everything this place forgets.
LG
8:42pm friday, 9th november
"I had lives before this, stems
of a spray of flowers: they became
one thing, held by a ribbon at the center, a ribbon
visible under the hand. Above the hand,
the branching future, stems
ending in flowers. And the gripped fist--
that would be the self in the present."
olga
3:01am sunday, 18th november
I'm impressed. Deeply, honestly. Beautiful and strange... Love, Olga
LG
olga