6:23 am a hiss of silence in background in my ears or outside, unusual for this area of Amsterdam especially with a road outside our window, the other side of our small garden.
not continuous traffic, but [handheld (this is where my writing goes by itself … sorry about this… it becomes surreal, and plain weird…) handheld, luminous, factory made, rattling, a troubador in sheeps clothing, a past event spattered with paint, panting, loose-fitting, tried on by a million people, always rejected, hung back upon the rack, put back up on the shelf, folded neatly, given a sedative, patted lovingly, but rejected.] now im back to “proper” writing … porous, (whoops! surreal has started again… it’s hard to stop, its so easy and satisfying, and expresses something (s) from deep inside me, in a flow, giving a feeling of magic… and power, that I can create anything I like in words) porous. END of post. hope you all enjoyed it… Sign up to my account for free. x
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