Poetic Movements

  I held the summer in my hands the perfect seashell delicate & brighter than the sun the wind rolled the sea outwards wild birds circled the mountain above and pebbles danced aimlessly in the air for a second my fingertips touched the sky and then the moment was gone; so I stood half-hidden & half-showing in the navel of the earth waiting (and when a star fell entangled in my hair I knew this was also the centre of the galaxy). September 2025, Kipoi – Samothraki