String-soothers and flock-gazers

Something if anything if anything at all somehow blank and undifformed.

Strings never lie, they lead and they tangle. I have counted and counted and counted again the knots that my feet rely on, getting there always getting there first and foremost where are we headed to, this sky is wider than I ever thought it could be.

c'est un chant une aurore c'est un flot dans la nuit

nulle part encore
je pointe
la vague jolie