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Words like photographs begin to play. Play, with its adventures, wanderings, exploring, falling, experimenting, failing, worrying and wondering. All the time play forming, shaping, dissolving, composting this self, this decay.

This decay, so deeply composted, this surface, like earth. Nourish the unseen, those roots, the body, it will take care, unseen.

These words, the photographs, fragments, seen, perceived, held onto in consciousness, and those feelings embodied, unseen.

These feelings, deep, far away, manifesting themselves in moods, atmospheres, auras, presence, ourself.

Our dreams touching the deep.

I breathe in deeply, slowly out, becomes a sigh, nearly a hum, nearly a sound. I feel I've nearly touched the ground, my roots, this Earth.

I nearly come into the day in another way.

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