much of the time is spent with this or other things which pass the day nicely. linen  hangs  heavy, needles preserved. small holes ready.

it don’t work if not connected, if not tuned in, you would think the experts would know that.  we need to signal to another.

think i may like to travel to small places,

old and full of history. deep aged fabrics

stained with the words of time. to touch

we have such unimportant work
here, that needs not be done.

today, another power house installed,

i have to let some things go
now, yet the this remains.

walk the rooms in horror,
see genius in corners,
there.

realise that he may cry
all the tears of life.

we asked if he referred to the war

which we consider affects us all

he nodded then sat down in his garden chair

remember the implications, was told the facts later.

much later.

the war house & after.

now

we dig within for solidity, solidarity, power to continue.  food is plenty.

we shall never know
for there is no microscope

here

moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail