fall 1962, smoking a rolled joint of mullein and tobacco, looking over at the french couple tangled in each other as they walk past us, blowing puff from pipes that look like long thin pencils.
they wear educated on their butterfly collars and snarl long byzantine noses at the news paper i carry, like a shield. it is libération. voix du peuple and i close it completely to stare at squished faces of old and new harlem on the m60 retruning to queens, to home that with each uphill step becomes a castle on the peak of everest as cold blows me further down the hill of huts of inuit sitting huddled outside of their igloos and catching fish from the sewer that i almost trip on on my way to the greek grocery to pick up swiss chard for the last supper for the evening with 11 others, who will sit with me toasting their cup of bearing, each an apostle of tribes i belong to and none of whom can give me an answer to where i can find a sale on walnuts and hempseeds for the omegas i need for my cracking skin, once as thick as the slab of rock i tuck into and carve wall stories for my seeds to review seven generations from now, at seven pm, dinner is almost ready...
on day 10, i am between space and time, collapsing into mileus i read of and zones of cold i have only heard rumors of. on day 10, time is like a stack of cards in the hands of the shuffler - 52 cards suspending and shuffling in mid-air.
what was then? where is now? how do you know?
How did I get here? It seems as if my life was and is a compilation of flashing photographs. Trying to grasp every memory into a book, only becomes frustrating but I regret when I forget. Only time makes me forget but space helps me to remember. Being in this space helps me to remember how I felt in other moments. I wish I could savor every moment. How beautiful it can be when you are in that very moment. Feeling the gentle air brush your cheek. Feeling the joy of that single moment. Sitting here, writing, and thinking of the past. Past? or past moments? How wonderful to think of how life works...How can I grasp this thought? I almost feel obsessed with the idea. Time...Time...Ughhh, how I hate that you make me worry about you so much. Let me enjoy this moment without any restrictions. Space...Space...How I love your comfort. You make me feel at peace. Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream? a dream within a dream. How will I ever know, unless I wake up. Time to go to sleep....Time to do this and that...Time to dream again.
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