And then start. Early morning smell of night still there. Hands that shake, sisters hands, Hands hearts, "Now you're there in me. .." ».
Down the river as the Angels fell.
Ghost Site of Gold kept by rusty barrels, open. Sand-eating dredger, Shore devourer.
Man exhausted out of nowhere, landed between two wooden shacks. .
Like a plastic bottle drifting on the ocean that cannot dissolve it, our ultra compacted world came back to us.
On the bank, last picture. A canoe, empty, waited.
Sure, I will come back ... It was the mist that screamed at me. Forests, river, sky, you, them.. A page that is touring forever opening on a book, a live to vivid ....
HDN December 17