I have seen how fire starts from a point and spreads through the bones of a man.
The start usually happens from a sound,
a sound which can be heard through the soldiers of thoughts.
Then at a point of confusion the substances of knowledge kicks in,
it either makes us a creep or nothing.
After that when the birds of a tangerine sky start to wake up to a whimsical forest
the silence of the findings enters,
the wilderness of a stopped highway,
the tunnel through a monsoon mountain…
it occurs seldom
but sometimes the wisdom gives us a blanket to cover the scratches of howls,
and I hope it will be the coldest of the nights when we need that.

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Photograph: Jenn Hessel.