I write about people I met..
About people whose eyes went wet.
About people who meant something.
About people who let go of everything.
I write about places I visit..
That talk to me.
That walk with me at every step.
That stalk me as I sleep..
That provoked me to find them no matter what.
I write about free spirits.
About the dancing street.
About the glaring little girl.
About the forest that fumes with fire.
About the mother who doesn’t sleep.
About the man who smokes to forget.
About morning that holds you.
About the night that folds you.


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