I am free form, my cells don’t properly connect, according to the norm, as if I’ve stretched to welcome ocean but with it comes the blue as if particles of broken lives get beneath my paper skin, abrasive, gritty, at times bruising walking on pebbles and yet, this is coloured in with collective dreams…
Tag: life-source
The Rhythm
The ocean murmurs to the beach and all the grains of sand of each tide’s potent transience, listen; silt and shingle understand time tumbling through liquid hands, shipping news, travel plans, lost civilizations and then that next great, ingulfing wave expands beyond where you think it should, globes in grains, mumbles in wombs as…
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 