A piece of art

Holidays by post
I am doing good with a piece of art every morning, either a poem or a blog entry…there are days when I do both.

There are days when I leave work late, take the last bus back home and while sitting at the bus station I look around and see people reading…only me writing. A very significant moment for a writer…transparent almost.

I got no plan yet what to do with all the verse…they are very likely mostly pointless…for future but I have learned that I do not want to be a normal poet. I have never been and the unconventional visual is just in my blood.

I like sitting in my bathroom in the morning, the sun is shining in from the sea side and while doing my hair I decide to change into a T-shirt. The beams are so glaring you can only make out the pub by the end of the alley.

There are moments when stories are just fascinating, a person’s life an adventure. So was the talk with my neighbour (opposite) while my landlord was fixing the window (yep, it has finally happened)…he talked about the Freemasons…and…without saying too much…they were indeed marvelous his old stories…dangerous too. 

These days there is a may bug coming through my chimney every evening…and the wardrobe is opening with a click each time I walk away…wondering what it is trying to tell me.

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