It’s a direct drive of fifty litres

From me to you.

Six hundred miles north

Until I’m resting my eyes on your face:

That soothing easy care

From the dial and touch

Of your features

The mixed fabric of your voice

Trickling through my cells.

I am freestanding

But will bloom

When you enter the room.

Until then,

I’m in this intensive

...

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A Strange Journey/Michael Kwack

Entering a souvenir store on the road, 
I realized I’d lost my luggage.

The wallet was well-kept in my back pocket; 
​But money for the remaining days,
And passport, business cards, party clothes, etc.,
All were in that suitcase I'd lost.
​
I didn't remember
Which roads I'd been walking along,
And at which store I'd let go of that trunk.
​
I turned...

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