A swirl of motion disguised as effortless.  Notions innumerable, channeled by a single consciousness and dismissed.  Pandemonium, orchestrated as if by grand design.

Sirens, horns, voices, shoes, wheels, engines, commerce, commotion, patches of persistent quiet.

A rich harvest of information passing through the needle’s eye of a moment’s fraction.  Another wave breaking in the audio-visual department, undertow corroding the bodily equipment.

It all sucks in a sharp breath and repeats itself, falls in on itself, as a wet blanket is pulled from an oven and thrown over the world.

On a nearby oasis amidst mortar, steel, concrete, glass and trash, orange poppies sway their bodies as if they got high at a music festival.  As they turn their paper Mache faces toward the sky, the subway rumbles – a whale passing below, carrying minnows who will soon join us up here on the surface to brave the storm.


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