A washed-out vision,
Puzzled into shades of neutral,
We live in gray world,
Unmoored from the distraction of vibrant colors,
Captivated by the texture.
The past, nonexistent,
The future, unmoored from reality and irreality,
What will be, will be right now extending into the present,
Forever trapped in the concept of nothingness,
Ascending into a good day,
Descending into the good night.
A restless creative mind, scatterbrained with curiosity and ruminating fecundity.
Where to look? What to see? Which to internalize and reinvent?
The window’s aperture compels focus, into an adventure that forces you to look outside your own existence.
I walked through woods, botanical gardens, and autumnal light-filled streets spotting the hybridity of green and colored plants, swamps, leaves, and vines trying to grasp a sense of texture that brings a sense of play to the air.
The peaceful taste of daily experience relaxes the texture of the human mind.
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