Or should I say the search for Breeze.





Or, is it? Intimacy…Belonging.

Words and letters that we try fill our hearts with.

We know that the heart is only a pump. But that does not really explain why we feel the hollowness, there; right there; at the left end of the sternum where the heart is.

There should be wisdom behind it;

Liver, I can understand.

Someone ate the liver of their enemy thinking that was the site of the soul.

None ate the heart.

Faro’s mummies retained their hearts.

The Twareg protected their throats.

Soldiers protect their lungs.

Medieval west European kings protected their penis.

Nordics their ears.

I protect none.

Breeze thinks that I am a selfish lump of flesh.

I respect him enough to let him think so.

And, I will continue to make him think that I am a lump.

I am yearning to go back to the Sun.

But I shall wait.

Just for him, and them



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