02 August, 2011


Seen in the photos you take, the prose so written, the countless thoughts and dreams you feel day in, day out. The ones you translate into musical notes or lines from a paint brush. It comes from random buildings and the light shining through them showing multi-coloured walls. It comes from any random passerby passing by unwary of your existence.

It’s obvious in every drip of paint, every light leak, every word.

It will finally manifest in your physical being, in your gall bladder or gut or heart lungs or brain. This blackness you feel but not mention, it will manifest deep in you, creep onto you, which is the only certainty there is in this world of multi coloured or sometimes dull drab sad confusion.

Like the beautiful green leaf that wilts and browns even more beautifully in the sun and falls down on to a tin roof, unnoticed. You will as well. It’s not so bad. It’s a certainty you can find comfort in.

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