
London, England
Alone I arrived
Alone I stayed
Alone they came
They stayed
And went
Alone
I fooled a passersby
Alone
I am a living statue!
© Angela Aguiar

London, England
Alone I arrived
Alone I stayed
Alone they came
They stayed
And went
Alone
I fooled a passersby
Alone
I am a living statue!
© Angela Aguiar

Photo by Joao Melo Serreno
On verse one of the fully developed paragraph, beating at drums of my heated plush traits, I rebelled on my puberty becoming this new guided missile pole. In my adult life, I became him, the perfect persona, the crowd pleaser, the begged for mercy kind of gentile creature, the dazzled narrative latched in a page everyone desired.
He told me I was a bug, the fruit pie microbe mutating into a biscuit but I came to be pure as an ice water in a cooler.

Photo by Joao Melo Serreno
It was a beautiful springy day without the spring. It was actually winter but being in the south, the breeze made it perfect. The salad was prepared with an array of crispy beautiful simple herbs with greens, long stems, cilantro leaves, lettuce, pepper, tossed watercress, onion, peeled diced cucumber, orange segments, grinded halts of palm and juicy sliced tomatoes dribbled with olive oil.
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