A baked leaf just fell from the giant tree by the railings of this window.
I could see the sunbathed outside…a moody mixture of yellow and grey. Echoing all the silences it is hiding inside.
Two or three moist beer bottles on my table with some shells of taken peanuts,
A man doing some swaying reggae,
lots of ‘Oh yeah’ or ‘Yeah baby come on’ going around the fusion of this diaspora…
Although I didn’t know who they were talking to.
It’s a good place to be in. Music, mensuration and skinned mayhems.
I think I was successfully drunk when I got up to get my last drink…went to get my poison through all the beats and pulses.
Evening came and came lots of memories and moments from all those happening crossovers of the past,
I needed to buy cigarette and get the hell out of there.
Memories are vacant in sleep but I knew how to reemerge that favorite dream of mine where comes Helen Hunt in a blue see through nightdress with lots of alcohol in her erotic illusion.

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Photograph: Tim Allen.