Thoughtful, with little numerical bracketing and fluid stripes of trembling leaves.

This novelty was an antiquated thought dressed for tomorrow.

Walking slowly to give time to measure the dance of people in the hills and streets of this new place.

Every land has its choreography.  Some reveal a hive of people who are like drums made of metal trash cans clanging erratically, and others are lowered lyrics and harmony – but none collide.

The swooping sway of things.