at the end of the beach the rock has reclaimed its rights and appeased my thoughts
by the river slipping into thoughts the same colour as water
I could do this
I should say that
I would like to go here
I would like to live like that
the sea is noisy but from another time here it is enlarging the space of my thoughts turned upside down,
here it is, soothing, organising them according to their individual importance they will ground in the dying waves with only a few words left, but ordered in rattling syllables.
she walks between the branches of the afternoon, rough inside, strange outside: a thickness in the air, a promise of winter (one can not always live at spring time), the earth needs to freeze and repair itself from time to time.