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Bell like tone
Over the keyboards
Moving to a cove next door
Plants hanging from the ceiling
Gold and mirrors
Antler chair
Chicken wire, marble and statues
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The cathedral peeks through the window
As we sit to eat
The fan moves from left to right
And the light grazes the stone
A quartz and a plant
As the breaks extend
The portions with words
Now is my turn to ask
Is this the same song
Chances are
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Upon observation

I enjoy observing and then assuming the particulars of a certain plot or personality in writing. I can navigate the waters of the minds of certain characters and create. 

I remember sitting and writing all the details of a story told to me within an ambiance of pure reverie. This became an effective connection. And I was generating a new situation by writing.

Mimesis...the professor would talk about that in class.

For now, as I think out loud, I remember the day in that same class where Dead Or Alive's "You Spin Me Round" blasted in perfect cue through the window, punctuating the phrase spoken by the professor: "Alejo Carpentier was really famous...and then..."
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Edición 1900

So Lujo y miseria, the massive compilation from the Spanish record label Austrohúngaro, is one of the most beautiful albums of all time.

I have listened to its version of Hidrogenesse's Vuelve conmigo a Italia about a dozen times... It is teaching me to sing!

I was walking around the drugstore singing...when I took the headphones off I noticed others were singing...

When the keyboards come in, I cry...

I froze tonight in front of the supermarket while listening and stared at a word: "Key."
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Wooden box with slits
Small engine round and round
All moving with a certain force
From the wire

In me as well
Look at those boots below
Now so far, so far...

Mind as space

At peace and unbridled
No concern

They walk past me
And I say hello

All this time
Creating is endless

Doing so
Moving the vehicle

And just realizing
A feeling

The one that holds
A notion
And a seamless tie



The genius of the household
Pulled a sleeve
From the shelf
And placed it on the table

"Dance and sing
Get up and do your thing":

Ah, good

The flash of light
Towards the ceiling
Stuff quite lit
With a figure

In three years

On a yellow chair
I am uninterested in humanity
Instead of artifice

Small brown bag

Moving clothes
From one area
I found a book bag

And in it
Some papers
And a brown paper bag

A small one
As for a sandwich

I touched and trembled

It reminded me of a behavior

A time for action

Using resources
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I sat at the table happily coloring the outlines with a crayon. Years ago, I didn't enjoy this sort of task, as I would grab a color and jerkily drag it across the lines. As I filled in the space, each curve reflecting a nuance of another reverie, I felt like the entire world was there with me, and my sensation was tingly and warm.

He walked in and called my name. I was a bit startled. I did not want to raise my field of vision.

He asked: "Aren't you going to look at me?" 

I wanted to stay focused, fingers pressed on paper and moving. I felt like making an impression...I was going to be solid... I thought: why? It was, after all, the perfect moment to express.

I looked up, gently. He stood there, staring.