Amir Pri-gal about mirrors
An unmistakable, chilly gust passed the fence from beneath the layer of leaves, using her accent “Since then”: Paragraph no. 1.
It was as if that cat had been patiently observing her all along. In Vietnamese, we called her “Water”, repeating the name “Water”, captivated by it: Paragraph no. 2.
Originally written in Hebrew on March 3, 2023
Credits: Image by Nguyễn Minh Nghĩa
There are those who do not love themselves and do not love others.
There are those who love themselves and love others out of separateness.
There are those who love all they see and feel, but he, and she, is forced to love out of separateness.
A draught broke through the door, a wide-open door now. The first and second burst into tears: originally with the first lament, and continue with the second lament, and then to the third, the fourth, the fifth, to the sixth, for the last that remains … in a way that no one hears and will not hear.
This is the notable lament of all.
Photo: Tuchong-Microstock
noise.
Noise of cars.
Noise of borders.
Noise of humidity.
A fence, a field, a road, a dove prepares to land on the transparent in white building like a mountain, beyond the cloudy hot spell, 300 meters in front of me, all I hear is noise, and it is a worn point, and an animal who lives, an animal that’s all living for one goal, for one purpose, to bring life, she is in noise, or that’s who went beyond.
I miss Vietnam, to the people in Vietnam.
Moral obligation is carved on that frame.
And a door prepares to slam on it.
I’ve always looked at you, my love.
Photo: Tuấn Hùng Nguyễn
How can you call a woman — whore,
and perform a Kiddush afterwards, keeping the divine note,
to defy the heavens’ existence to your boys’ eyes?
“I was given only one shot to allow you the basic needs,”
Once the father told.
20-minutes drive, exclusive nightclubs can be found.
Some of his future professors, and executives, also can be found.
Membership policies.
The boy got rid of the book of books out of the window and screamed.
Briefing by breathing that the past is not a product of cause and effect, there are no walls that can stop you from unleashing suffering, except the conception of suffering. Briefing yourself doesn’t mean you know everything; it can be the process of relying on authorized teachers or letting ancient inherited knowledge to arise.
May the insanity in the sanctuary of your beauty guide you in the realms of your happiness.
Photo: Yogendra Singh
“Do not tell mom,” as if we have the same mom
“Your secret, is my secret,” I missed this little monster
The smile I have not grazed
7 grams per second.
Photo: Ded Charoenlarp
A young woman, a Jerusalemite style, with a generous white rush on her shins, “how beautiful she is,” I was wondering while catching beats of hers. Her-sandals, her-dress, the dirt under her-nails. Mountains girls, we call them here. I met few men who genuinely one-love, as you can address to a fair maiden. Some have been sent away… I was taken to the burial cave of Abraham, at times before the wall, when we played in the vineyards of Hebron under the August sun 👒. Shy moose roam freely. A cat on her seventh soul found a place on this white land of rocks. We were listening. Can you listen to the tweets? She was there. I see her shining, even if she didn’t give a stranger-chance to love, as she is. Months after, on the bridge nearby, I found a woman who asked passersby to light a candle for a man’s sake. For her friend’s father. 3 disturbed women asking for prayer in the place where passersby examining each other decent shoes. How wonderful is that.
Photo by Katie Aun
body’s stings, being revealed on her thighs, fox’s howl, and myself up the stairs to the spice of hesitation.
Dec-24-2011 | Photo by Yanukit Raiva
A ponytail, is that she? The way she runs just beyond a beaten track, on a concrete one. The scent poured into my soul while I try to sanction the witch, a measured curse, is it the winds who needs to be blamed, Gods’ will, the shape of it? O… the smell… No, a fool’s choice.
Oct-11-2017 | 13:58 | Photo by Trung Thanh
“You will stop seeing me”, I was briefing my direct supervisor. She pulled out a square, brown, Walmart like, paper bag and called herself Aviva (A hebrew girls given name which means spring). Hid herself within it. After her friends made holes for her eyes to be seen, I told her “Stop it. Because when I get home I will cry”. When will she tell herself how she feels?
Sep 13, 2017, 22:34
