Tag Archives: Chaya Czernowin

A Familiar World Made Strange

All tracks,  footprints, paths were gone. Buried. He had pitched a tent on arriving: how come it had not blown off? From inside, he watched the complex improvisations of the wind. He heard how it suddenly laughed with the sand, … Continue reading

Posted in Ephemera - Encounters, Field Trip, Observation, Poetry, Quote, rag-pickings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments