Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
Very mysterious, William. Etheral. Fading from memory, comes to mind.
It does, Jan. Hanging on, letting go, somewhere in between. I had some odd dreams last night that I can’t remember. Maybe this is what’s left of them.
Apparition of self. I had a very relaxing massage yesterday. At one point I kind of floated away. I saw my face in front of me, yet there was no mirror.
Lifelong companions, with no real need to speak.
Hello, Skizo. Thank you, and good wishes. I like your High-Minded.
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