Where to go.
I am find.
Also see through tears.
In the misty fogs of your time, the vacuum- ocean, exhales. And in slow motion, unveils one of it’s many secrets: The Island. The Island. The Island stops and flows Light comes and goes This is the island of Dust and Mirrors. moved by your touch and of it’s quiver…
The mix up of entomology and etymology has followed me. It all started with a member of the Cantharidae family gazing through the camera lens, followed up by a dried out cicada falling down from a tree as I cried. I felt I needed to realize something: For a long…