Direct experience before words and language?
Cool morning air touches my nostrils. Am I breathing in
or is Gaia breathing out? Ah!
2 crickets signal the end of St Glace, the warmth returns.
In go the tomato plants.
Watching hairs on my old paintbrush.
How many strokes, cutting in, playing a role to make the edge?
This mouthful, honey's silky sweetness, nectar gathered from many flowers,
incessant work for my one lick.
Nothing to lose but my insanity.
Memories of playing a kazoo on the train. Just be. Now.
The candle is burning down. My gap year is coming to an end.
I need to use my time wisely.
Transient birdsong, blackbird, cuckoo, dog barking, traffic, my breath,
bell chimes 9.
When spitting, spit, with a balance of tension and relaxation,
with intention, deliberately, mindfully.
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