to fully understand this text you must first envelop yourself in the enviornment in which this meditation first became clear: a wet stoned floor in which puddles become mirrors to 18 century pink churches that sashay their plastic repetitive flags tied to invisible strings in the wind. noise is all around. and people come and go and you are walking not noticing the flimsy rain and not noticing that your pants are wet from dragging them along these streets towards the center of the city. you seem to know the way although you havent really taken that way before. and yet you are arriving to the center balloon and tree filled plaza.
suddenly amidst all of this colorful caos, your ears chose to listen to one sound above all creeping up from behind you , a sound ineveitably obvious a snort and a hurl
A SNORT AND A HURL. dear god.
you unconsciously decide to spin your head to the disgust of a flying portion of spit that is thrown onto the stone ground.
oh the disgust
oh the sound of it all
oh th egagging that my body now produces remembering such a scene.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment