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もっと水を飲む
March 1st Flowers
Not exactly flowers, not exactly what we wanted.. but something is somewhere growing…
Exponantely, some statisticians mention upon celebrating an efficient coffee machine (100 a minute) and numbered suitcases parachuting a crashing airplane. (10 per second)
The pouring monsoon absolutely not, played that stupid game of productivity and decided, just yet, to close its fountains on rushing airports and drip drop some Belarusian Potatoes on hungry soldiers that found a minute to chew something starchy while bombs were chewing dreams of kids that couldn’t distinguish between dead or blossom, flowers just stood there, waiting for luck to pour on Crimeas arid soil.
That Dolce & Gabbana shirt, insurance is going to get you. Fat Tony.
Pizza slice missed my smile as I had to liquidate some money, some pickles in brine memory down the throat.
A lost bird in the skies of doubt chirped something in South-Japanese-Blue-Zone accent: “Drink more water”
So I held tightly, Icarus’ hand, tossed my suitcase manually on the desert dot of Possession Island mysteriously hot, Okinawa, white rice, bare hands, low-profile, some children running around in circles looking for existential questions between sand grains cuddling mumbling something that geologically attracted…
