GOD

     She searched everywhere, until finally stumbling upon pink-stone ruins in some unknown city, where small animals (hedgehogs?) took her by her hands, her sides, her legs. They led her up a pink side, and as they walked the stone changed in front of them, like a kaleidoscope, like a dream, a dimension different. Inside, he was sitting at a table, writing and having a cup of, maybe coffee? He was surprised, asking why she keeps finding him. The floor under her feet started to fall away; he was disappearing again ... this was a chance to say something, to stay, to change everything. The door to this world kept closing. He said, "I'm not the one, I only saw you once, brushed against you, you're a girl, don't look for me". The floor was losing color. She was just a girl. And before everything was gone again, she screamed, "I love you!"

Fimbriae of a fallopian tube under microscope. Credit, anyone?

What's inside of you?

     Trash. Had a visit to the "dump" recently, or Landfill, as it's called. Awful experience. Depressing. Who had the idea to excavate the earth and fill it with human-made waste materials is unknown to me. The idea was terrible, but it's still in use every day, all over the world. In some places, the ideas are worse. There are satellites orbiting planets of this galaxy, yet human trash is a problem unresolved. Crappy ideas are all around you, just notice.
     Every human death I celebrate as less trash in the landfill. Famous or not, from this day on I celebrate people dying.

Не попса, наконец-то

Шалостью бризовой,
Шелестью рисовой
Поговори со мной,
Поговори со мной,
Солнечной, лиственной
Вязью осмысленной
Ну поделись со мной
Тяжкими мыслями,
Темными думами,
Мрачной кручиною
Слушать угрюмыми
Соснами чинными
Буду как рай земной
Под кипарисами
Поумирай со мной,
Поговори со мной,
Слезы повылей чуть -
Я ведь как оттепель,
Я тебя вылечу,
Станет легко тебе,
Будто бы сызнова
Встанешь из пламени,
Только держись меня,
Не оставляй меня.
А коль решишь уйти,
Вот те пророчество
Будешь искать пути,
Да не воротишься.

10th Billion Sphere of Reality

     Which is worse: when your dress smells of cooked bacon, or your breath of sweet onion?

Foodies in the Rain

     Wet, aromatic woods, rain drops, vivid greens. Someone said, "Rain like this makes me hungry." I paused. It felt like sharp, hard cheese-eating weather to me. But I've been a raw vegan for sometime now, why was I thinking of cheese? I then tried imagining what raw foods I might crave in the rain with wet shoes on my feet. And I realized that for me raw foods are for nourishing the body, and cooked foods are comfort for the soul, emotional blankets. I shall watch this for a bit, see where it goes.

photo by Ra!