Sometimes strange things happen,
an encounter,
a sigh,
a breath of wind
that suggests new adventures
of the mind and heart.
The rest
comes by itself,
in the intimacy
of the world’s mysteries.
Alda Merini
Related Blogposts
They walked slowly down the corridor streets, eyes looking ahead for the edge of the land. Dying embers on charred wood still smoking, cracking between curled fingers. Both the city and night, quiet. Two figures black against a growing ocean. A long breath, ribs, shoulders, chest, rising and falling across…
searching rest in movement, I waste myself, afloat carrying and being carried forceful, yielding a soluble state of being availability of moving and being moved letting go carried away bent by what escapes me inhabiting contradictory forces, I find myself in between.