A bunch of everyday activities, just up in a hot air balloon. Like line-drying clothes and stuff Cascading June 8, 2019 Leave a Comment Cancel Comment Name* Email* Website
Culture is what we drink. That bow on the back of your neck. That register in the front of your eye. Pulling a crowd. Completely around a block. Her terms direct the discourse. Her Image compels the blind. The Orpheum. The Mayan. The Vista. The State. The Artists. In Different. United. In Wait. Music. Is her primal. Dancing. Her chiral. As is dying. At her regular, divined, interval. For when you flood a rose with water. You accelerate the bloom. When you avatar a feeling. You heroine its fame. Here. In the Choral Ropa. In The Rosslyn Million. In The Santee Passage. Efficiency is soaring. Quality is suffering. Release. Is escaping. Desire gives exactly what we want. Surrender gives precisely what we bleed. That wonderful old-fashioned idea. That others. Come first. And that terribly new-fashioned ideal. That everyone. On this planet. Is dying. From love
1 cup flower ✨ 2 cups kiss ✨ 1/2 tsp wink ✨ Sprinkle of hot ✨ Dollop of damn ✨ Bake awake ✨ On the felled iron gates ✨ Of hell 🔥 For about 25 minutes ✨ Give or take ✨ Deliver to heaven 🕊 Post haste 🧁
The ugly ~ The languid ~~ The disgusting ~~~ The unordered ~~~~ The latent ~~~~~ The discarding ~~~~~~ The beauty
Life, is a window. And you, are either inside of the classroom, looking out, or seated on the sill, straddling the line, or outside in the fields, making wines
If you think that it’s a game. Then you’ve lost the game. If you believe that it’s not a game. Then you’ve lost the game. If you feel. ‘the game.’ Gliding into the real. Then you are in and beyond the game. Then you are in the unreal. Then you will give the game, its rules. And you will break them. When they are beyond past due
No attachment means, no attachment to one thing. One can immaculately be unattached to the play and infinite swim in the untetherable exhilarating vastness of every thing
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