Writing found in my mothers Suitcase – deep and complex:)
Near The River of Wonder I walked , traveling all this way without shoes. A porcupine tree branch tapping , tapping on the window , flashing in the sun , are the first voices heard , a sound like people talking in whispers , a sound stunning its way around in my mind too strange to believe . Only night and day , one night , one day , becoming my entire life as the moving sculptures of Christs apostles on the astronomical clock in Praque click cryptic with dials and mechanisms into a world so sublime where a skeleton , the figure of death , waits slowly , so slowly , to strike the hour . Is my friend la vagabond near ? ” Night and Day ” could be the title of a poem by Chris Nelson or William Blake , or a sign over a cafe in…
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Captivating and excellent writing, I love the way it was summed up completely with the words, Why are birthdays so important when every single second is one ?.
Excellent perception on life and the video a perfect accompaniment.
wow – I am speechless and humbled by your words…I deeply appreciate it!