tiny trucks deliver to tiny shops, as if there was room on roads. pedestrians learn quickly. out of the way! (no suitable translation springs to mind.) everyone moves aside, quickly. tiny trucks go slowly by. white-painted roads in a beautiful place. tiny trucks leave no dirty tracks on the streets. shops sell a few amazing things: exquisite art, a bowl: carved of ancient olive, grown thousands of years ago. cool shade is an under-rated blessing. just stay cool!
Badlands no.12 the rains came down for millions of years washing away rock (was sand, packed hard and turned to sandstone.) memories stir and i want to return to a place and time a little beyond my grasp. beside me, a small dog sleeps in peace. envy stirs, as i fight sleep like a tired toddler. rock never sleeps, time's rivers wash it slowly to the sea, one grain of sand at a time.
such a beautiful june morning! sunshine burning an image in my ancient eyes. across her fields, a falling barn squats beside expanding woods. summer heat baked barn siding many years ago. we wander past and see a ruin, reminding me of my own ruin, still falling, still failing, still happy to be alive.