"Pues yo tengo un chiste para ti..."

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Returned to where I thought best to chance upon a miracle. Miracles are a thing of beauty. Of past relics ignored.

Amongst the conversation to be had I thought that the one with the same old lady was overly reliant on ellipses. She leaned over to say hello, gave me a fistbump, and went about her yap. Bubble clouds would have been insufficient during our incoherent conversations.  Fortunately today I came prepared. I had brought cash with me which I stumbled upon when I was in Teror. When I handed it to her, she blew me a kiss, said the only thing I understood that came from her mouth (thank you), and walked away.

Long ago it would have been hopeless. The world belongs to us both.

But my last dance is slowly coming to a droll stop. Images painted in my head have been marked by beautiful memories only tainted by a single inconvenient asterisk. All that was left for some old fool was the memory of someone forgotten and then released, and soon slowly and surely blown away by a Bohemian cusp of wind where I hoped to perchance this miracle/asterisk to eventuate. Hope has not died despite the hysterics. Still I throw caution to the same cusp of winds meeting from west to east and vice versa. For all that I have been blessed, I still am sitting still and waiting, and it could go awry, which already has, somewhat.

The elliptical train of thoughts of the downtrodden are my wells of strength, and I find it quite peculiar for it to be so. This comfort I take from them is not schadenfreude, it is their collective manipulation of ki gifted towards me. An energy bomb of love and affection that I have and will never be consciously given, because if it is not love, then it is the bomb that will bring us all together.

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