THE TANGLE

Succession of living cycles, I call it rocking invisible hand pulling strings and triggers. There is no point in the analysis, the dissection of hows and whys will consume part of our existence for the sake of stubbornness. I hear stones hitting on my window, there is a gravel storm going out there erasing our facial features, the sky is playing with us as if we would be statues in a medieval temple. The moss, in the first state, as the tide is still low, the algae and the phytoplankton, as the waters cover all the old known words engraved in the in pillars that sustain us. I am letting my hair grow, as the wind blows the long locks will compose a filtering net, through which the letting go will escape with the attachments. This works in the water too, I will be safe and will give safety to others. The facilities are submerged, I feel like if I would be an amphibious. This elasticity, this patient figure located in a highly eroded slope, this living exemplification… uhmm I close my eyes and wonder if some others can feel me, if such a thing as universal vibration is bringing out there or if I am just and dormant larva. There is a circle, one that is close and fully appealing, I lay down in my graceful disposition state, things go so slow down here because of some reason. I want to get my pass to join the crops nightwalkers, I do it in my sleep surreptitiously, I fly with them to other dimensions. But why is then so hard to get close under the daylight, in this concentric settlement of roads? Patience, it is all about to come, I won’t miss it. Finally i am queuing in a pristine calm, charged with knowledge and a proper disposition. B_Nour