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One said to me tonight or was it day 
or was it the passage between the two, 
“It’s hard to remember, crossing time zones,
the structure of the hours you left behind.
Are they sleeping or are they eating sweets,
and are they wanting me to phone them now?”
“In the face of technological fact,
even the most seasoned traveler feels
the baffled sense that nowhere else exists.”
“It’s the moving resistance of the air
as you hurtle too fast against the hours
that stuns the cells and tissues of the brain.”
“The dry cabin air, the cramped rows of seats,
the steward passing pillows, pouring drinks,
and the sudden ridges of turbulence. . .”
“Oh yes, the crossing is always a trial,
despite precautions: drink water, don’t smoke,
and take measured doses of midday sun,
whether an ordinary business flight
or a prayer at a pleasure altar. . .
for moments or hours the earth out of sight,
the white cumuli dreaming there below,
warm fronts and cold fronts streaming through the sky,
the mesmerizing rose-and-purple glow.”
"So did you leave your home à contrecoeur?
Did you leave a life? Did you leave a love?
Are you out here looking for another?
Some want so much to cross, to go away,
somewhere anywhere & begin again,
others can’t endure the separation. . .”
One night, the skyline as I left New York
was a garden of neon flowerbursts--
the celebration of a history.

                             Sarah Arvio - flying 

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La Femme - It's Time To Wake Up (2023)

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THE DOOR
By Miroslav Holub

Go and open the door.
Maybe outside there’s
A tree, or a wood,
A garden,
Or a magic city.
Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging,
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.
Go and open the door,
If there’s a fog
It will clear.
Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
The darkness ticking,
Even if there’s only
The hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.
at least
there’ll be
a draught.

The Myrrors

Cast away across this ancient land
The desert heat burns the Eastern sand
Fever falls and it starts to take hold
Asphalt blood worth its weight in gold

The battle cries echo through the stones
A thousand men and children far from home
Fighting for them that would not fight
Forsake all concepts of what's wrong & right

History repeats or so the prophecies say
Tomorrow's bloodshed is our failures today
No man raising up his hands in protest
To think we thought our government knew best

Painting devils on the eyes of our youth
So many words spoken & yet so little truth
Too much talk but when will you move
It's at the point where we have little to lose

And they crest the hill so savage & wild
Scorching the land & every woman & child
Through the deserts they slip into the night
And they die

Lampenkap kat

Gouden eeuw kat

                                                                                                - Marie Cecile Thijs

You & I Are The Foxboy Noises