I was inside the rotten mists.
I am lost…I had always a fear of getting lost…
and now that I am…I am not afraid anymore.
This hill station is a maze, it goes from nowhere and comes down to nowhere, like gypsy clouds.
I stood there… crossing my legs like fallen ballet dancers.
Edge of a trench…I am thinking about the woman I left behind in the hotel room.
She must be getting ready to be rammed now…she must be putting a lot of her Jasmine perfume and she must be keeping her hair loose.
She knows I am hair and ass person.
But I am here now…it’s like getting ready for the meditation here…
The novelties of free birds all around…and I am meditating without women, without cigarettes, without alcohols, without the zigzag of an indisciplined artist.
A dog sleeping by the steel railing…he is cold…but I am not thinking about my woman,
he shimmers in discomfort but I am not thinking about my woman.
I watched a program in television once where they showed what will happen if you put a brain of a rockstar to a sex addict’s body…
I think about that many times…
I have a body crowning with sexual desire…now I just need the brain.
That will be fulfillment. That will be the act of a wolf.
All of these…the mountain, the cross-legged fucker, a poor dog, mists, a lost mountain range…and I am not thinking about my horny woman.
I don’t think i have even the body for the experiment.

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Photograph: Google.