I got lost in Mojaca, a small village in Spain. It happened again in Chefchaouen, in Morocco. My dreams intrigue me, but I don't understand them. I like to go to half-empty restaurants. Street entertainers make me sad. I prefer chamber music to symphonies. 
Then you will sit down
in the resting area
and you will be moved
when reaching the letter o
marveling over the words
then close the story drawer
before your bones crumble 
It was one of those days when being a duck would have seemed enough, because then I would have seen where the road was leading.
in front of the artificial pond,
I do not expect much
Yet
debris are shimmering
(it all depends on the angle)