When I passed through the hills of old, long gone tranquility, I drifted away, far into my mind.
Searching for that damp grass I once held so close.
If I am not careful, I might stay here forever. Breathing in the Smokey air of childhood memories.
I have morphed into something,
But then left it behind,
Up in the hills.
Now,
The concrete slopes caress my growing soul, Simplifying complex matters. Curving in my elder tree.
“Where does the wind blow” is an associative journey which exposes tiny particles of history, or alternatively brief peeks into a human’s soul.
a non-chronological story line of one who is thoroughly broken, yet perfectly complete.