An abandoned car in a field alongside the railway tracks
the bushes ferociously pointing in all directions
the mountains in the horizon don’t give a fuck
for us humans and our tracks and destinations
the entrails of Greece
olive, grass and lime and a warm, white sky
we cross a bridge and everything
everything is material, everything is ambiance
I cannot be bothered to write about myself
for anything in the world I want to avoid
writing about myself
casual ruins
talking of former greatness
hungry cats revealing a lack of surfeit
that care is sparse and the train
moves on unfazed
when the door opens
the screeching of the wheels
in the large, soft seats calm
and the view SO in your face
bridges crossing canyons, extended valleys
color scales and I’m manically
photographing all of it
but the lens of the iPad gets into the shot
my own face reflected in the window
as a filter in front of the landscape
I get in the way of what I want to see
what I want to show the world
and although language is my place
where I try to listen to speak to mix
other voices into my own
I have only one body
to walk through the world in
to drive through Greece in
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