Strange

How much strange stuff I run into every day… Strange thoughts gather and hang like heavy clouds

Strange people with ideas move like the black crows on the power lines and in the tops of trees

Some strange physical things… Like a wind that blows through me… I feel it come in, it turns in the cells and the blood and I wonder how I’m changed by it

Then the strangness of the darkening and night again… laying down, eyes closed, not knowing whether they’ll open here again…