You never go to church unless it's on your travels. The one across the street from where you live hasn't seen you since your wedding but you scour every dark inch of the Nossa Senhora de Salvasao in Mumbai
I discovered my family coat of arms.
Coughed so hard it shook the ground, since then I feel, my lungs are bound to your tinctures, your strains that render me euphoric in my left & right brains
the man and his donkey cart loaded with watermelons
Prague, I spent a month with you and your medieval spires, your Jewish Quarter that meant living space not one-fourth of the city