The softness of its textures is my possibility
A skilled assembly of corners in my space.
Here I create space as time’s multiplication,
In wind-blown doors and curtained windows
Brushing palpable wind, the colors of prism.
The colors are my ghostly existence outside,
A sun dwelling in my senses, ruffling my hair
Creating dark patches of my exfoliated skin.
The sun lives in my interior as room partner ,
An extension of space through several times.