I have always been here and i will be here again someday.
To the clouds above the living,
to the smoke of the chimney top,
here will be my alibis.
The friction is wild through this unforgiving rustle.
To be imitable in absence,
to be able to walk through the maiden sensation…
I have left me there and i have made me impossible to be found by my belongings.
The far cry, the shining metaphor…
To be impregnated for the first time and to be scarred in organs…
There’s a day at the end of the tunnel
where one day i will be just in the stories of lonesome fallen leaves
and it will be a success in my own ways.
I will be the afterlife in grey manipulation.
But before that there’s a flow of shitting on the grave and making lillies out of thin air and being a child in limitless silence of constant grandeur.

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Photograph: Kristaps Ungurs