(no subject)
South.
Long flights bring a slight insanity and a disassociation from reality. Finding feet that feel like they are floating on jet streams like the flotsam.
I am thinking of connections; connecting flights, vines twisting up trees, fingers interlaced, words mingle, déjà vu, in a moment the future is the past, ties that bind, flowers feeding bees, the way music connects me. Seeing where things begin, then twist and circle and come around again, in a growing spiral interlaced with tentacles that grasp and cleave. Connections build a ladder to move forward to a future.
I like the beauty of finding paths between us.
Flummox.