mafotherphunkie : blizzard laceworks (part 1)

In summer, everything has an aura, everything is cloaked in the mist evaporated through the pores weaving micromaps across the surfaces of leaves.

In winter, everything breathes the glow of the sunshine reenacting the pearly-golden oversaturation of summer afternoons that won’t let dawn conquer the scenery.

Before condensed water, scattered across the pocket of the universe a.k.a. the atmosphere of a heavenly body, is rendered available to the surfaces awaiting underneath, summer afternoons are but an invocation of the immeasurable wilderness of wide, open spaces of an overcast day in fall.

In summer, when the whole universe is but a dripping curtain, the river smells of spring, of the dispersal of colors as dawn meets sunrise : sagging particles distant and separated by unfathomable cosmic spaces. Particles, sagging…dispersal, which it is not. Particles like dots interwoven across the filigree works caked with silver lace the bodies of indefatigable minute factories present the protective translucent, pearly space with. Pearly-golden spaces fed on evaporations of indigested molten nectar-meets-acidic-solvent-of-disintegrating-rotting-foliage. Pollen generated from a raindrop crystallized on a petal licking its decondensed offspring. Like juice dripping from sweet fruit. Juice encrusted in the vibrancy of the color of amber. Dots like knots, sites of condensed…dispersed dwellers of the micromaps safely stored in ye mafotherphunkie archives. 

In summer, when the smell of the sagging colors touches the child’s heart with the breezy kiss sent by the cypress whisper. Like phunk.