Slow summer evening infused with petrichor,
I sit dreaming into the neon lights past the glass door..
Memories of those hot summer nights,
Our chatter overhanging the dim streetlights..
Harsh winters make me desolate,
Yearning for the sun rays that illuminate..
The breeze it blows shallow in the quiet of the night,
As I perch on the edge of the in-finiteness of the sea before me..
The world through my eyes.
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“The Only Thing I Do Know Is That We Have To Be Kind. Please, Be Kind. Especially When We Don’t Know What’s Going On.” Waymond Wang I finally got to chance to see this year’s Oscar darling last week, it left me feeling a wave of emotions which I thought best to pen down. Apart…
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after what seemed many many years. One of the most uncanny things about visiting old haunts is how your spatial memory at times struggles to place both things that are similar yet different.
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Joey sighed a bright luminescent pheromone of satisfaction as he had just dug through a path thought inconceivable by his red fire ant fore-bearers.
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The Lucid Monk 