I drive an abandoned stretch of highway several times a week. The journey is always the length of a lecture. Taoist thought turned into cognizant consideration through the alchemy of concrete.
The end of the trip always brings me to a perfumed box inside a chalkline square. The sun sets behind the bullseye symbol, and she waits to ascend to a tiny oblivion with me, for a few hours every night.
A thin slice of heaven, reclaimed.
10:15 p.m. - 2015-06-29
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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