I’ll peel off the clothes
and decorate the floorboards
with all that you wore.
Kiss me now, love me now.
Time has a funny way of collapsing when you go back to a place you once loved. You find yourself thinking, I was kissed in that building, I climbed up that tree.
An individual’s life consisted of certain classified things: ‘real things’ which were unfrequent and priceless, simply ‘things,’ also called ‘fogs,’ such as fever, toothache, dreadful disappointments, and death. Three or more things occurring at the same time formed a ‘tower,’ or, if they came in immediate succession, they made a ‘bridge.’ ‘Real towers’ and ‘real bridges’ were the joys of life, and when the towers came in a series, one experienced supreme rapture; it almost never happened, though. In some circumstances, in a certain light, a neutral ‘thing’ might look or even actually become ‘real’ or else, conversely, it might coagulate in a fetid ‘fog.’ When the joy and the joyless happened to be intermixed, simultaneously or along the ramp of duration, one was confronted with ‘ruined towers’ and ‘broken bridges.’
the mind is our most powerful weapon
but it is also a sanctuary, the balance comes from stillness. In this constantly spinning world we must find the still within ourselves.