i am lost in the horizon, sometimes in the old town. but nothing stops me from wandering or pondering. armed with lens, back pack, a blurry but enchanting vision backed with passion. i cross borders, climb roofs to capture those moments, or just to feel captured by the moment.
...how my poems are born...
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words from somewhere deep within blastula of my illusion and verity born to my journal and fountain pen which slipped in wind and fell in rhythm
words from somewhere deep within
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