Hovering aloft the cotton balls and things have invariably been contradictory on the other side. Jilting the concretes . the materialistic pile. The sanctum. Away to this unknown land of crickets and culicidaes. And the zephyr here .. Roasting frozen. Numb and muggy and sultry. Amid the populace of differently spoken, eye have been an alien with an insipid skin and twin virgule below the frons ..neath’ the roof of thick noir caterpillars.. In between : a hill that rose.. shiny oily panda nose. And them catechizing…all the same.. the looks the strange ..all the same. Natheless always a rapture hast it been.. . Finding oasis within the exposure. Unalike cultures. New vernacular. non-identical places and New art.

Perhaps itinerant shalt I always be.

 Forever ..exploring and learning..

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