Monday, November 9, 2015
245. In Rome, Winter
Staring at red tiles, you occupy a center of noise naming activity thick around you. It leaves, the noise, and there you are at a periphery again. Cold wet air converts breath to steam, as it should be, as it has been on Earth as it is in Heaven. You're no one at all! And also with your spirit.
Labels:
245. In Rome,
nobodiness,
Rome,
Winter
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