In the mist of this early start
My mind is still foggy and willing to rest.
It packs its bags
For a day of details and detailed instants.
The marathon of small pivotal steps starts
At the lights of dawn.
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Alphabet tending
I let my words go
With direct strokes and clear edges
To transfer with the minimum black
The condensed story.
No word should leave a physical mark
On an innocent candid sheet
But on a private moment in time.
Plane mode
Doing less and communicating less
To live on ‘plane mode’
And catch the unexpected details.
A fix crosses the street,
A flower earlier than the others,
A child laughing for no reason
Are entertainments needing no connection.
