Never (so) blurry

We reincarnate everyday. Why would there be any need for a god, an afterlife, or another chance after this one? Why would I need it, when I get to see other worlds and this very one subverted during the short summer nights with my face sunk down in the pillow, and than choose my own body and my own life again and again every morning? Not that I'm really aware of it, or that life's a defined series of chapters, ending or beginning. Not that it is so, but it feels like it. In a more fluid way, perhaps. It doesn't matter how angry or sad I get, or how horrible the newspaperreels look like thursday morning. When I open my eyes, I can feel on the palm of my hand everything I have and have been given. I feel all the people I love crawling on my bones, all the stories in my mind lifting up my feet. Chapters never end for real, I go back to them, mix them up with the present and future. I change the lenses of my camera-brain, take off and put on contacts, make it blurry, make it okay again. Close my eyes when I need it, than open them to see. I'm not saying I'm gonna sit down and eat up happines without trying to give anything back. I do care. And hey, maybe I'm just lucky, maybe it's just something I see. Maybe you made me see it. You are a few but feel like a million, you are one and all. Maybe it's just the warm wind blowing absurdities out off my fingers tonight, maybe it's my own bible, one that needs no approval or veneration at all.



Enough spiritual-vomiting here. Back in june two smiling people left Auckland on a plane, and words become annoying after a while, and pictures are just better sometimes. If everything had to be followed by a caption it would become boring, and I would scream. No instructions or warnings today.






























Those were the last Olympus-pictures for this chapter. And chapters never end for real.

[Sjieittalk inspired by "I Stand Correct" by Vampire Weekend indeed.]