Early run

Hyper-lucid moments following a morning pot of Kenyan tea.

A pint of stove-top espresso.


Vees of geese crank low overhead in the high-definition flat light of morning.

I’m bounding up crags like a goat.

I’m the winged messenger.

I feel preternaturally aware, everything is pin sharp and extra dimensional

Amazing piled up magical cu-nim cloud cities.

Sycamores in graceful twists, like shy dryads in mid-gyre.

I feel like a grey ghost flitting between the trees and slivers of time.

A woodwraith in the clockless world of dawn.


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