And I walk through the maze in a constant rush foreign to myself and my own city. It could be worse in case words were lost. But there I go day by day searching for something missed a long time ago. Unprecise time and space. Maybe a bunch of nice pictures – kind faces, pleasant sites – which would yield punch to keep on going.
Corner past corner the hurly-burly seems to weave its own logic or lack of. My footsteps sort of gain autonomy now that the lyrics of a sympathetic song take over.
Paths get narrowed as light dims, as memory blurs. Yet the lines may still be relied upon.
::
photo: São Paulo city centre by Ricardo Imaeda
Corner past corner the hurly-burly seems to weave its own logic or lack of. My footsteps sort of gain autonomy now that the lyrics of a sympathetic song take over.
Paths get narrowed as light dims, as memory blurs. Yet the lines may still be relied upon.
::
photo: São Paulo city centre by Ricardo Imaeda
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