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works: anjila wilson

Let me wander all day with this craving.
My mind wanders around, thinking, endless thinking.
From street to street. Darkness to darkness.
I feel this little ball of energy,
Is this what’s in me?
I take my eyes down below lethes skies.
I wish to feel, not think.

I feel the miles of history underneath my feet.
I hear Lethe demanding to be explored.

The concrete I walk become flowing rivers.
These marks, people leave behind become the beauty marks of our past.
The lines become scars.
The layers become history, revealing its self once more.

As if the veins of a living organism.

An urban jungle with pounding of feet Sirens buses taxis talking shouting moaning laughing banging door barking. This grey concrete river is screaming.Take me away from here. Too much, too busy

I close my eyes.

Take a breath.
The sound of a bus.
The engine purring like a cat.
Laughing of children.
Talking.
The closing of a door.
A bird singing.
I feel the breeze gently brushing over my face.

I open my eyes.

Ah, the beauty of this urban woodland.

like trees,
leith’s buildings stand tall.

look at them closely with fresh eyes.
can you see what I see.
can you feel what I feel.

let me be the energy of translation.
shifting experience to a language of imagery.
let me be your eyes.

if just for one day.