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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )


Somewhere something somehow takes the best of live and let live and our duty towards ourselves and each other, and doesn’t sacrifice one for the other.

Somewhere, some the, some how and some hows, the dividing lines that shift. Rules from experience tempered by current.

I believe it has to do with communication, and tone. Communication, and tone. Or communication. If communication isn’t respectful, is it really communication?

Is communication part of communion?

Can we do transformations on a pocket to turn it in and out and in and out such that it is OK from the turning? So can I think and think and know when it feels OK to stop, or when I should talk and talk and stop and resume whatever helps or just lay there for a while and let that help?

If I turn just so, if I turn just so, I feel that it fits, like clay on a wheel, turned just so… clay created into.. something satisfying, even beautiful.

There are rules, sure, but pots don’t have to be the same. Pots come into their own as they are, according to the current of the moment.

Meme, that, the current of the moment. Does water have memory? Is the memory the channel through which water flows? Does water remember being frozen, being cloud, falling as rain? Is water always new again and new again and new? Is water our substance by which we know newness, purity and endurance?

~ Lady

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