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A journey through all facets and nuances, an eternal non-arrival.
Absorbent cotton in the head. Thoughts loll about in a jumble. Circling, floating, not staying put and roaming around like a storm of emotions and images. Blurred, fused: a symbiosis of illusion. What is memory, what is delusion?
There are images of
Grasses; tarred and feathered, the stems in bright green disappear under the black brew that seems to swallow everything. Smoking, stewing, consuming everything.
There are images of
Gentle camomiles, gentle hands and soft pillows that accompany me to sleep, humming benevolently soothing songs: a delicate way of saying goodbye.
Images of old oaks, cracking bark, rustling branches, swampy moors and lilac leaves. Falling. Like a song of spring in the abandoned, in the sunken.
Images of lush flowers, shrieking, demanding and infinitely dense, glowing in all colors and consuming you.
Again and again.
What remains later is a breath. Sweetness that melts tenderly on the tongue before it accompanies you into the gentle nothingness; a kiss, like a farewell.
Grasses; tarred and feathered, the stems in bright green disappear under the black brew that seems to swallow everything. Smoking, stewing, consuming everything.
There are images of
Gentle camomiles, gentle hands and soft pillows that accompany me to sleep, humming benevolently soothing songs: a delicate way of saying goodbye.
Images of old oaks, cracking bark, rustling branches, swampy moors and lilac leaves. Falling. Like a song of spring in the abandoned, in the sunken.
Images of lush flowers, shrieking, demanding and infinitely dense, glowing in all colors and consuming you.
Again and again.
What remains later is a breath. Sweetness that melts tenderly on the tongue before it accompanies you into the gentle nothingness; a kiss, like a farewell.
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