I am the green monster

Lines on his face reflected in my palm…
——
wordsinkhandprints- and the Fabrica picture machine

This Crying Whale

AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

pic via Fabrica instant blog

ps: love notes

Earth Song

last night i cried. I cried for him, i cried for myself…

it isn’t that am losing a friend, even when thats the most i mumbled whilst the groans escaped,

it is that when they are not close by, when you cannot walk past their house and cry out their names…scaring the elderly woman on the balcony above…

when you cant send an instant chat demanding; lets have a spritz tonight…it does feel like you are losing them.

even when you know enough well, that they likely will stay your friends for ever.

ps. this post is not a love note … well; i guess this footnote wasn’t necessary.

AND THATS MY TRIBUTE
-Earth Crys. still

Happy Spaces

…………….Milano

For Spartakuss

Him
Myself
&
The Problem
———- thats as it stands

Worth the space???

my relationship

He
She
It

ps; whats tweeter

HELP ME

i am the african child

give me the African Child Support

– phoebe

‘elsy

I searched the corners, losing him; in the orange grasses by the river- harshly brilliant, intertwined to hide a life-, in the mash of terror where souls escape to die, in the hallways of hamlets from which I come. concrete and grass. the luxurious of nothingness, a vain love….

I couldn’t hear a noise or a brush of wind, a puppies’ whimper. I wouldn’t find him

There were people, hundreds, thousands- or perhaps two- standing, crowding, gazing, looking from left to right, at me. how are you? one wondered flicking her fingernails bitten to the skin, flashing a greyish teeth, at me. where is he? i asked. A desperation.

Where is he? why does he stand in there, with everybody- all two of you, as himself, telling songs of tales denied, yet I, I who seek him, I…I fail to see him. To hear him, to find him——To have him touch me?

…

It’s hollow, my bloody organ. I aches.

home

is where my bed is…

am sooooooooooooooooo tired.
and the work’s just began.
xxxx

brhh

So Gaaga is this new bus…looks great on the inside, one guesses- blame me- that this being a new veichle the shock absorbers are intact and do work….

One also assumes, wildly, that a bus a driver, with the sort of experience of one accustomed to long distance drives (Bunjumbura-kigali-kampala), would know when to slow down, just a meter, how to navigate the sharp bends, and the fact that the way one drives on Rwandan roads is not, cannot, be the same way of driving on Ugandan roads…

I flew off my seat a total of 20times, i worried about my neck hanging in that mini window, my back hurts and…..and there is sand grains stuck in my right eye.

I have to do this same bus ride again, tomorrow afternoon…..
somebody, somewhere, help. lets start with the roads first, then the nutty bus drivers next.

-