short_resolutions Joana. Wandering again through this concrete Paying no attention to what may surround me Mind drifting through all the things lost Tendencies to cling on the ephemeral Like the white horse in the middle of a highway Or a figment existing only in one's mind Both dying months later Both dying within me Murdering me Reading Kafka now as the days drag themselves warmer Finding will to write again And wanting to recover the lost world Resurecting the horse and Alma And keeping them alive for as long as the papers live However doubtful the quality may be. 010214 what's it to you? who go blather from