Photo: In Pohara, when the day is a little gloomy, yet magnificent. Few people go for their daily walk on the beach, which temporarily belongs to me.
The emotions returned
in his bewildered throat
he thought the sobs had evaporated (a long time ago)
but the emotions returned
in his bewildered throat
before the sea that was resting
in the morning low tide
the sobs were coming from so far away
in his bewildered throat
before the almost resting sea
photo : Pohara, cloud formation often found in this part of the world, so artistically placed, every time.
mirror, mirror,
tell me if
a better reflection
than that of clouds
against a blue sky
does exist
photo: Pohara, a public bench invites daydreaming
About how to pass time: you sit at a café table, watch the customers, eavesdrop a bit on their conversations, which lead you in all sorts of unexpected directions, you invent a life for them, or you sit on a public bench and try to figure out where the sea meets the sky.
just follow the stones,
they’ll take you to the sea,
they’ll tell you what to do,
they posses their follow their own grammar
in their simple and solitary sentences
to learn how to live inside of yourself.
photo : Collingwood, feeling like you are somewhere else, far, but also here, there are a few places like this one in Golden Bay, New Zealand
To be elsewhere, like another here, that one learns to know, like the morning of the sea, one can smell the rotten seaweeds, one will find a sky, almost recognises the salt, and the sand, that sticks to numb knees, a here like any other, an elsewhere that resembles a here, we will agree on the price.
