final touches
i finished all my requisites, yet i still can't sleep. i'm truly without any schedule. i live until i can no longer stand, then i collapse and wait to wake-up. i fear that the mountain will fall hard, or i can ride the avalanche made of the talus which i built. things do become clear with time.
i suddenly remember walking along Bleeker and going into Porto Rico to buy tea. i think of the tea she would like, but i cannot answer. i just look at the clerk fill each bag from innards of the urns. i buy too much tea, and only one small bag of coffee, an order that was placed to many hours ago for me to remember exactly what roast, what bean, the amount to get. i hope i have enough money. i'm left with $4.68. not enough to get anything decent to drink. i had only 2 smokes left. i give some people a call. no one answers. i walk around, as i usually due, summer, winter, autumn, spring, dusk, rarely dawn, in a hurry, without haste, meander, incise a path to no destination. i think of the circles i've walked in, search every corner, being fond of some places yet forgetting why exactly. I will eventually sit anywhere i choose that seems welcoming, or have a certain ambience i am particularly fond of. i sit and wait for my thoughts to flocullate, to gather around a single point and build. i will eventually dry out in laughter, or laugh at my own misfortune.
i miss looking for public benches no one sits in anymore. i like putting the old commodities and services we've taken for granted to use. old letter shoots i buildings sadden me. light fixures with push-buttons. old library cards with DUE DATE written on top. the seems past forgets itself.
i suddenly remember walking along Bleeker and going into Porto Rico to buy tea. i think of the tea she would like, but i cannot answer. i just look at the clerk fill each bag from innards of the urns. i buy too much tea, and only one small bag of coffee, an order that was placed to many hours ago for me to remember exactly what roast, what bean, the amount to get. i hope i have enough money. i'm left with $4.68. not enough to get anything decent to drink. i had only 2 smokes left. i give some people a call. no one answers. i walk around, as i usually due, summer, winter, autumn, spring, dusk, rarely dawn, in a hurry, without haste, meander, incise a path to no destination. i think of the circles i've walked in, search every corner, being fond of some places yet forgetting why exactly. I will eventually sit anywhere i choose that seems welcoming, or have a certain ambience i am particularly fond of. i sit and wait for my thoughts to flocullate, to gather around a single point and build. i will eventually dry out in laughter, or laugh at my own misfortune.
i miss looking for public benches no one sits in anymore. i like putting the old commodities and services we've taken for granted to use. old letter shoots i buildings sadden me. light fixures with push-buttons. old library cards with DUE DATE written on top. the seems past forgets itself.
Labels: observations, retrovert, return, work
posted by rada at 4:09 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home