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on this deep velvet night, the air is surprisingly warm & soft.

i breathe in the salty hues of purple & pink waves as they create a steady rhythm on the shore.

my dear friend (the black figure in the water pictured above) takes a dip as my love & i set up an altar in a beach cave above.

we light candles, cast a circle, & read this NERUDA poem:


Now we will all count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

This one time upon the earth,
let’s not speak any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.

The fisherman in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.

What I want shouldn’t be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.

If we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,
if we could perhaps do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and everything is alive.

Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I’ll go.


keeping quiet, we soak in the last rays of sun as the earth turns her face away.

we break the silence with the scribbling of pens on paper as we write our intentions by flickering candlelight.

my intentions feel, for the first time, like invitations rather than negations. i feel to be a moonflower opening in the night, inviting moths to land on my soft, translucent face & take my potential with them.

we end our little ceremony with a shared HOLY.SMOKE..sending our intentions with flowered breath on the wind to our ancestors.

reminding ourselves that we are our grand -mothers & -fathers in a new form.

a turn of the kaleidoscope of life & we are suspended for just a moment, till we turn into a new design, even more captivating than before.

with roses on our lips, we leave the rhythmic shore, returning to the twinkling lights of the city.


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