Mushrooms growing from the stump in the corner of the courtyard, that bit that can't keep it's grass. 7 skies h3 blending with the wind and the neighbors patriotic windchimes. Dogs are barking. The harsh cry of the neighbor kid; skinned knee.
And his Baby Einstein branded kickball.
Ours is just green.
English breakfast tea - black gone cold. Trying to read Noise, in fragments. Figments.
Hour and a half. Wash the feet.
Remembering the tasks for the day, those left unfinished. The music drifts with me as I fade in and out. An argument for synthetic/synthesized/syncretic/synchronicity. The number 23.
"Fast running! Daddy, chase me! 1 2 3. 4, 5 6. 9. ... Go!"
- Posted from my φάρμακον.