You are a word. I build a whole sentence, paragraph and a world so as to use you.
You are sound that I can taste and throw from the tip of my tongue.
I keep you safe in my memory and make you grow in my imagination.
I create and recreate you faster than I do myself. Or is it I I recreate when when I build and rebuild you? Is it you who had me all along?
Top Shelf
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Pictures to Show The article calls for being present. That instead of taking photos of the bee Sucking on sunflower, Lock your eyes ... -
Everyday view from the kitchen window You read your horoscope and think it can apply to literally anyone in the world. Then you go deeper ... -
Prelude Let's make work of beginnings. Think prelude, how the masters leave little worlds on their own till one is found by acc...
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Superboy! You have a liking for high places Dissecting plain skies Looking down on people Dissolving into borders Because you wish to fly...
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Appropriate, to the level of cliché, that the first blog of the year features a prelude. In TV-series tradition, a brief recap of 202...
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The Vocalist The rest could only imitate what he alone and all alone could do: sustain, vibrate, reach unnamed colors of the soundscape. ...
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Pulse (A love poem) In the beginning was a pulse that came right before any breath to birth a song or a word. It throbs even as the music...
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Tooth Which child's heart didn't throb, eyes didn't widen at the taste of tooth rocking back and forth the soft slide of gum, ...
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So I have gotten into the habit of recording my piano practices because reasons (that have got to do with skills development and, admittedl...
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The piano makes me happy, which means it makes me sad if I can't engage with it daily in some way — playing, practising, messing aroun...
