in 10 days ill be long gone

now i will write about the northwest: the landscape has a texture. the wind ruffles the prairie’s belly! the golden brown soft hills and jagged cliffs and impending forests all around. low fluffs of clouds and ripples through the grass. i feel invincible at last. and someone told me “the wind was formed y the trees who waved at one another.” good theory.i’ve been reading haruki murakami’s short stories. here i site some of my favorite quotes so far:

when i closed my eyes, the scent of the wind wafted up toward me. a May wind, swelling up like a piece of fruit, with a rough outer skin, slimy flesh, dozens of seeds. the flesh split open in midair, spraying seeds like gentle buckshot into the bare skin of my arms, leaving behind a faint trace of pain.

then her eyes would look like white moons floating at the edge of a dawn sky -flat, suggestive moons that shimmered at the single cry of a bird at dawn.

the inner light looked like countless grains of pollen -grains that were soft and opaque and that hung in the sky, almost motionless, until, at long last, they settled down upon the surface of the earth.

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