at least from home
in the spirits you roam
from childhood at 9
wooden inside.

Printed on the desk Pablo's brother used to more often than not jam U2 casettes out of his jambox. A christmas present. Originally gray, his brother had used an old army knife to scratch off the gray paint, making it look a worn, cool. There was a cast iron lamp next to the desk. His brother would put in another tape. "This is called Judas Priest," and hand the tape to Pablo. Pablo would hold the casette and open its plastic case, revealing the inside cover. Shiny pictures of funny looking brightly colored animals. A bird sailing through the air, talons out. Looking around at the magic on the walls and in the ceiling. The same ceiling where years or days earlier, the card, HIS card had mysteriously appeared.
Slowly dragging backwards, Pablo's hills dragging the carpet, his white socks bunching up in rows around his ankles. The first dream of flying. Jumping further and further, over a house, or a river. The size of the jump exactly connected the the amount put into it, the floating, the falling, un falling. These important aspects of life. The same as a bike ride, the same as a trip on a canoe, the same as day dreaming about 8mm film running silent footage of a 1970s mother cradling her newborn child.

wooden walls.