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Another month, week, day, hour, moment - decade, lifetime. And this, words, worlds. That schooling, so pervasive in the unsuspecting body and mind. And, this nowness, ways of thought, and of feeling.

Sensing, articulations, finger tapping letters onto screen. I turn the iPhone into a camera, a magic moment, I touch the button, the world, out there, disappears, and re-appears, as it was, as it is, in a photograph.

I see this photograph, in a moment I take in the world. I remember the photograph. I read the words. I forget the words. I re-look. I re-read. I rarely read a photograph. I rarely see words like I see a photograph.

To write each day. Pen to paper. This morning. In the evening I make some marks like drawing, a sense of rhythm, I imagine playing some noises on the music keyboard. I leave the keyboard in its corner, maybe tomorrow. I leave the camera in its draw, maybe tomorrow. I sleep, dream, and now, write. On this keyboard, letters, finding a rhythm.

A stream, flowing.
A brook, babbling.
I am a brook.

A month, flowing.
A photograph, still.
Words, a book.

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