Intelligent arty gay Italian movies, with soundtracks that fuse tango, trip hop and hard house, tall copses of Ash trees that roar with harnessed wind and sun,  billowing their silver presence up into the airy blue, swans and their offspring bobbing daintily on green rippling ponds, the gravitas of babies, melting into sudden  beams and chuckles of Buddha gladness, the wobbly old man across the road, robustness of youth still radiating from clenched knuckles, dried slivers of pineapple,  melting gossamer ribbons of surreal seaweed sent from Tokyo with love, Whitney Houston, Lauryn Hill, cool rain falling on nightclub sweat soaked skin, geeky satisfaction of assorted rainbow  plastic plectra molding against my palm then clicking plinkyly on guitar strings, unexpected shamanic presence of genuine spirit medicine showing up during a child’s animal song, modal jazz melody and  harmony, pinched harmonics, serious concentration, the first cup of tea, dreams of swelling ocean waves the size of office blocks, but warm, temperate, navigable, silver birch voices rustling the last rays of solar radiance,  gospel outfit Nu Colours (who remembers them?) multiple viewpoints, agreeing to disagree, going separate ways, re-kindling hope, feeling of oak bokken and jo staff  swinging in the harsh morning air, hair, Randy Crawford, Bach, beetroot, ginger, December, Glastonbury, bitterly sad yet ecstatic memories, particularly, green parakeets in the baking streets of Barcelona, drains, jasmine and pig feet in Bangkok, the collision of past and present, layered, nested multi-dimensional realities, inner travel across familiar yet mysterious lands, roasted tea ice cream, teaching, learning, cats, spiders, shield bugs, ants, snails, elephants, rivers, soil, sage, breathing, stars, jeans, magnets, books, blu-tac, solitude, honey, grass, aeroplanes, snow, bridges, candlelight, sleep, Summer, Autumn, fearlessness, lists of things…

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