The heat is cruda.
There is nowhere to hide from the sun,
or am I just numb?

Suddenly, the script is changing.
Observe.
Walk in the glare of the afternoon sun.
Save the hints.

See the chaman turning his face toward me.
Click.

The great attractor in the heart of the sun-city pulls me in,
revealing familiar strangers once again.

A few steps more and his furry companion, the monkey, stares at me.
I remember a poem.

The artist is hungry again and out of the cage.
Stay back. Hide. Capture.

I let life wrap itself around me now.

It was the last act, and they stared at me.
Old faces lost their voices.
My script has changed a little.

I dream about Istanbul and find it here.

His eyes are rolling.
Another human following an unusual script.

He pulls me back into my childhood.
Head under water.
Eyes revolving inside.
Triggered.

I stop.