I sit experiencing the ability to not need to experience.
We walk around a small enclosed town, Setúbal, being followed by the ghost of the American Dream, Kanye West himself live from the tinny sneaky sound system of cobblestone tourism.
Indifference. We claim the highest praise and adoration of an entirely indifferent wilderness. The waves, like the mountains, don't give a shit about you or me.
Long live poetry and grace!
Imagination is all there is.
