As soon as you realise, it is obvious. Thoughts that are made visible look like magic.
It seems that I might communicate a sense of separation from this time, and speak about other, more disconnected topics.
Only unsettle, try not to disturb.
I search the borders of comfort and expectation. Here, I might
skewed, but safely shielded.
Time is a trickster and not to be trusted.
Here, I present unexpected surprises.
It will not do, try harder.
I have the idea of being slightly elsewhere.
But is it wistful? Or mournful? Sould it be like the sweet, sorrowful music?
I want to cushion fragility, and to protect.
Decorate your spaces with things that move in the breeze.
Delicate and precarious things need careful treatments.
Listen for what is clearest between the sleeping and the waking
There is hope, still.