February 13, 2014

imperfect poetry


All in one day, but it feels like a week. On the run, in between, quick shots with the phone. There is sun, there are grains and challenges hidden in between. These shots, the mobile insights are different. So is looking back, into the last twenty four hours. Tiny stories, one led into another. And obviously, I am not in the mood for many words. Not for the rest of this Thursday. I have left them under the starship's light. Good night and sweet dreams, maybe of something entirely different.








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