holy birdmad the place and the silence stillness unbroken by the clamor of the inflamed and reckless sanctuary refuge a hanging garden the library of Alexandria a temple to the muses 010126 ... tender_square there were seagulls cawing as i awoke but i wasn’t at the beach. i'd been working in my cubicle; marcel required something of me. the task related to religion, it became involved in my work, or rather, it was the work itself. someone else insisted i do the project or assignment, or whatever it was, their way. but that there was another process: a holy one. and so i took it upon myself to do the work the sacred route, out of rebellion, or out of necessity, i'm not sure. it was instruction handed down to me by another superior, one who mattered more than marcel. 230629 what's it to you? who go blather from