A weird damp yonder outside my iron cell,
and some blue parachutes with invisible creatures ascending on darker roads.
But I know who these animals are…I know them,
they are wild fortune-tellers.
They tell others future in a way to live in them.
They are funny, they are regulars, they are untimely northwester in a salty and peculiar day.
They are ascending and they are running through people who need dependency of strong influential words.
Imagine what would happen if Hemingway waited all his life to write a substantial sentence from meaningful inspirations
or the relativity waited to be discovered from a dutiful commonwealth.
We create, we fail, we travel, we fall in love with homeless magnificence,
we jump from an untouchable cliff…
cause we can bring imagination as our recurrent swords.
I smile at these downward creatures,
they are only known to make perfection out of ordinariness…
Let them fall…
I know it’s going to rain tonight…I know I am going to get drunk and get wordless,
I know tonight I am going to sleep on my indigo pillowcase like it’s the last night before the magic.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Nick Price.