missing
even when recalling women balancing silver cups on their heads and men dancing in dragons' mouths, and all the foreigners growing like weeds up the steps, i am surprised to see it has melted with the wane of all the other memories, a splash of sound, a resonating wash of liquid waxes; it funnels down and drips into children of the tomorrows and the unexpected. but where might this awareness of now be found?