Between the words are questions

Something has certainly begun. Personal depths of old and a curious imagination for the unshaped, moves in me like guests at a polite party.
The sound of the clothes flapping silently in the room, the flickering of lights and the noise – and something is here, presenting itself to me. I am all eyes and ears on this party so far, I slip about in invisible corners and observe. The presence of my poetic self, around and before me, partly visible, partly familiar, it steps across the floor in shoes of different sizes, making itself at home, suggesting a relationship by giving me space to wonder small, and I nibble at the un-served main course in the back room (with guests discreetly watching). The music has been on for a while and I did´nt notice it´s returning until recently. It seems sown into the rooms like abstract tapestries of sound. I hide my eyes beneth the table and send my skin to drift toward the ceiling. In the end all journeys shall be one.

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