a glimpse of it

When i observed the golden flood sinking into the rising pale pinkish ocean of the dawn conquering the world in the glory of the elevating smell of palm trees, cypresses, and salt, the senses in conversation imbued in the child’s heart the joy of the journey to the cities half-known, half-unknown and the magic of the stroll along its streets: strange, yet certainly not alien.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber.

Not often did i recollect the smell so energizing the very capacity to invoke, to reawaken, to stroll, to halt. Then to continue. To continue naming the way one would persist in such quirky practice regardless of the periods when instead of the coastal freshness, mornings saw one drenched in thick flows of slumberous jelly. Slow, brownish streams sliding down the driveway. Translucent walls, rainy pillars. Perpetual dim-lit late afternoon. Like the onset of the night averse to fusion with the residues of the lingering hollowness of  unimaginably long days.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber and started to learn a language.

The light in the room drunk with the reflections of the sparkles from the waterfall walls. Midday like midnight. Dozing into dusky whirlpools. Sagging into a devouring bite of torpid sunset on a winter day lulled into insipidness of persistent drizzle. Mockery of snow. When eyebrows, instead of  being an icicle tapestry, prevent no stream from the forehead to merge with a quiet string of teardrops, first shyly, then freely merging their particular trajectories into a long pathway into the mouth, into the nostrils, into the waterfall pillars, into the indifferent gateway into the night that usurped the whole day in variously disguised ways.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber and started to learn the language i can understand and speak.

Dusks like midday. Nights like ceaseless drizzle, melting sidewalks. Picture frames like gutters on a stormy day. Oil paint like nail polish under the attack of acetone. Linen like canvas. Canvas like glass. Glass like sparkles from watery pillars. Pillars like the whole mansion. Withdrawn from a faraway buzz. Safely hidden behind the guardian driveway. Resistance to noise…like flashes from the archive…hands holding hands…ye cliff mafotherphunkie immemorial…watery walls…billows of puke…flash of dusk through the dripping oil paint…counterrites…ye café club…molten frames…sagging into insipidness…phobic he was… counterrites…ye beach infamous… counterrites…mornings like midnight…darkness like frozen eyebrows…likephunkdamafotherphunkiephunk! Like the whole room were but a page from a book. Like the whole room were sucked into the words emanating from the page the tales of cypresses infected by the kiss of dew, tales of a layer of condensed salt suspended above the water surface, lingering whispers of its first decondensed droplet as it starts its subtle sippage back into the salty vastness, back into the greenery of the dew-infected-purpleorange-dawndusk.

Like the pinkish ocean sagging into the milky dream of the city whose granite strongholds smell of salty water and birds of prey. Like the city infected by the kiss of dew.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber and started to like the language i can understand and speak.

Q : Counterrites.

A : Branchstylingly.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber and started to realize that i like the language i can understand and speak.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber and started to learn how to continue to realize that i like the language i can understand and speak.

i could get a glimpse of it once i later realized the vigor with which i wholeheartedly embraced passion for amber and started to learn how to continue to realize that i like the language i can understand and speak : it’s called the poetics of the remix.