Oils and pastels imagined, sunny farewells, short holidays less than a day long, apparently lost dogs and slow burning sand, framed but without dimensions, intricately mistaken, hot under the collar with sweat running down your back, a bottle of tap water and abandoned buildings, litter, no litter, some sense of the unrecorded past, travelers on narrow roads, clifftop pathways, avoiding eye contact and telling the time thanks to a peaceful wind from Norway, taking the day in to take in a different view.
I do these things, note them, experience them, remember them; sometimes. More frequently and I don't know why, I just forget.
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