Sisyphus’s rock rolled down again. He cursed the thinkers. Each time a meaning was given to the rock – knowledge? love? – it fell.
If a picture paints a thousand words, then why 😊💕🙈🎶🌒🌟🏊🛠❓❓❓
Work of a moment on the crowded pavement. Bus arriving, tripping, flailing, bus arriving. Stop. “No, I don’t want a flyer, thanks.”
My eyes saw you; my heart did not. I was asleep.
At the end of the heart’s night the sun came up and you were there.
“Open the book, hold it in front of you, breathe in the words through your eyes.” I was the only one who couldn’t. The book closed.
I followed the cross on the map you left on my heart, across the sea to the end of my world, I followed the cross on my heart to you.
It’s not complicated, said the alien. We created airports to run our stress engines. When we need more, we just whisper “security”.
A sharp nose poked between the slats, icy eyes sparkled. His cold greasy look on my body, I walked up to the window and knocked.
Single to Alloa.
Not coming back?
No, that’s my last time.
That’s a shame.
It’s the only way.
Well, see you then.
Where was my hat? I retraced my steps and there it was, on the bench in the bus shelter. Well, OK. I unrolled my sleeping bag.