The city from this other side of somewhere is beautiful: the luminous fibrils of lined, lighted towers scrawled under a full bridal moon. And all this trembling like a seductive mirage: between sleep and waking.
Owl-eyed, I peruse the night--- the cold glass stretching between us like an ever-expanding peephole, this is the night before the voyage.
My bags wait in the hall, packed and full of trinkets---collected along other routes: highways; winding desolate mud tracks littered with bones and dirt--- leading to this moment under the quiet moon.
And, from the other side all peepholes lost in a jumble of light and dark: after I let go. The city along the even shores recedes like a comet’s luminous tail, never to return.
Memories drift aside like dead seaweeds: leaving behind a lifetime of forgetting that awaits a lifetime of retention.
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