What a fantastic time! The discovery hour, the improving secondary effects, the glorious aura of everything that moves and also what does not. Canned memories escaped their rusty caged, like forgotten feathers slipping through the bars, to be free, to fly like they should have. Rays rain going in circles to die in a purple metallic collecting drain; me myself, jumping high, making holes in the clouds above with the juggling of my dreams. There will be many more moments of excitement but no one like this, drink it, integrate it with that wild essence of yours. The roots grew down deep and spread wide, lifting up fossil shells altogether with just asphalted road stretches. And here I come, playing harp and a circus drum, a tambourine and a vintage guitar, the genuine one-woman band. Finding a strange pleasure in splitting hairs, as well looking for needles in haystacks, nothing else matters, nothing is worth a cent, no iron horses or bloody cut carbon baguettes. There is a hidden treasure in the air that surrounds us as we walk, containing many, many more gems, that the pirates’ chest. Now is the moment to grab it and diffuse it, avoiding idling and withdrawal, sharing this pearls choker and let it get the size of the very same equator line of this globe that houses us. B_Nour
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