there is no turning back having passed the fallen baby at the bottom of a flight of steps
i sit by the window watching the world passing me by. i write my own newspapers, because i take the time. i find it easier to believe the phenomenon. words need to work harder. even then they do not make me believe in a state, but convince me of an interpretation. steps are hard against pavement. put another skin between skin: leather, wool, cotton, lanolin, oil and ester. i break the glass and the wind passes through my loins.