I collect dried leaves on a fall day.
I collect black & white movies of the 20s and 30s. I collect but never read love letters written long before email. I collect notebooks filled with dreams and ideas and money making schemes. I collect vintage cameras without film. I collect space made by giving away my collections. I collect moonbeams in glass bowls filled with water. I collect postcards and addresses. I collect the very rare smile of the American teenager. I collect magpies in Spanish parks with ancient fountains. I collect Spanish walks with my Peruvian novio. I collect faded family photos of people whose names I never knew. I collect kilometers on the Camino between Pamplona and Puente La Reina. I collect losses like beads on an abacus. I collect Spanish words like aprovechar and querer. I collect memories often not my own. I collect boxes filled with stamps, and marbles, shells and stones, and single earrings. I collect injustices but never grudges.
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Leslie H ColeBlogging and podcasting dreams straight to your armchair. Archives
April 2017
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