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The Indecent Breath of Light
In the center of this conflagration, this transparent, scent-driven shadow of a city like a sudden squall making candles, that perpetuates the luminosity of her presence –– where you unfold like a serpentine compass, on an obscure street, in the otherness of twilight –– is a backdraft of bees dripping honey in her excitement, when it colonizes the darkening dawn, and breathes in the spores and the burning poppies, followed by the prisms and the blood-like mirrors of uncanny movement. The breath of light is indecent...
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