It closes behind me, yet the hum of sound still penetrates the walls of the Sun, though it quickly fades as I slowly move away.

I have spent a turbulent time in parallel. In poesis, sympoesis, together-poetry. In (non)sense-making, sensing, sensuality and sensitivity.

And I treasure the memories. Of the first entry, in early spring, of the questions leading to a story, a story defining the inside of me. Questions also showing me a path.

I wrote about the belly of the whale, later, there i found myself for a short while, sitting on a chair, with a large bonfire lighting up the flesh-red cavernous walls of the whale. This whale moves in the ocean, with me inside, situating me both as part of the ocean, and seperated from it. A double existing, for a time, in the ocean and in the whale.

I treasure the memories. Of intimacy, of mutual respect and trust. Of collective care and nurture. Of complimentarity. Every one part making the whole the whole. Just as it should be, a collective of beings being together.

Now i am expelled from the whale, washed up on the shore, abandoned, if it wasn’t for the sensation of the whale being inside of me. Still with the bonfire lighting up the inside of me, still with a chair there for rest and reflection. I nod as I feel the whale swimming around in my body, carrying everything I found during my explorations of the ocean and the earth.

I treasure the memories, and I am grateful.

The tide

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