Refuge

January 15th, 2007

Did I hear a genie calling?

I have this place I go to where if I looked up, I see something egg-shaped. It’s a furry egg-shaped thing. It’s a white furry egg-shaped thing. It’s a white furry egg-shaped thing with the most beautiful big eyes. It’s a white, furry, egg-shaped thing with the most beautiful eyes and a smile that melts me. It’s a white, furry, egg-shaped thing with the most beautiful eyes, a smile that melts me and a scent that totally intoxicates me. Ok maybe “furry” isn’t the right word (occassionaly “fury” is), but “hair” just doesn’t quite describe something that’s on a cute and, er, furry animal. Anyway for reasons of poetic justice or whatever that’s left of it, I shall refer to it as hair, but you know what I mean.

I’m not trying to emulate lyrics from the 12 days of Christmas, you know, the one that starts with a patridge in a pear tree, but there’s no other way to describe it because this is like my playground. I blissfully move from one thing to another without letting go of the previous sensation but the next sensation is always unexpected. Always ecstatically amorphous- a smile that is evolving or fading; a scent that is playing hide and seek.

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Entry Filed under: Martian Invasion

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