the crickets come to sing softer songs than those of their cicada cousin. ‘pooteeweet?’ they chirp, clicking their bronze heels saying ‘it’s ok, it’s ok, we’re here to keep you company since you’ve left yours.’ friends of mine when the newly found friends are no longer, slipping out of my hands like a badly broken miscarriage full of mishaps galore. attention to detail, attention to detail…the details are what I live for, what I’d die for. in 1945 roughly 120,000 people died in the firebombing of dresden. not a sound was made by the people, because they were incinerated. i guess the learning curve wasn’t so curved after all. we either climb or fall of the edge but I’m falling I’m falling off the slope of the workforce no longer- scouting for the next hill while still panting from the other. and now, to retrace my steps and do it all over again? mythical fairness fading from my fingers like a dream, nails in the coffins hammering away keeping me awake at night, the crickets still singing ‘pooteeweet?’ to check i’f i’m awake of course i’m awake i’m preparing for tomorrow’s job hunt, a trail i know so well i could lead tours on it. this world’s all about chances, so i hear. The firebombing consisted, of the by-then standard methods, of dropping large amounts of high-explosive to blow off the roofs to expose the timbers within buildings, followed by incendiary devices (fire-sticks) to ignite them and then more high-explosives to hamper the efforts of the fire services. The consequences of these standard methods were particularly effective in Dresden: the bombings eventually created a self-sustaining firestorm with temperatures peaking at over 1500°(2700°F). After a wide area caught fire, the air above the bombed area became extremely hot and rose rapidly. Cold air then rushed in at ground level from outside, and people were sucked into the fire.

so i hear so i hear. the Dresden heat of the san fernando valley affects us mind spirit direction, leading her majesty’s armies of ants to penetrate the dishwasher indoors, the crickets to click their heels.

they’ve stopped singing.
the drone of the air conditioner goes on.

today was my dresden. the office, the computer, the email. everything was sucked out from under me.

so it goes.


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I'm fascinated with people, their stories, where they're coming from and where they're headed. Met many, and now it's time to write my own. follow the footprint.

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