Delicious red dirt

Greetings,

A tennis club near Bursa. Three red clay courts. Overcast. Delicious red dirt. Tall pines, fir, green oasis. A fish eatery.

The red clay is rolled, packed, watered and swept. Maybe I will have a chance to play, run and feel the flow. It's about footwork, timing and energy.

You dance with the ball. It begins to snow lilac petals. Bird shadows dress red for two hours in one minute. You slide and glide; a quickness cat in your element. Get it back, get it in.

Variables: in, direction, depth, spin, power.

Playing dirt ball with the ferocity of a jaguar using stealth and cunning.

Make it new day by day. Make it new.

Peace.

Magnificent

Greetings,

Here's a picture from my room.

I live in an old village where three religious guys met to talk way back when, perhaps 1,000 years ago give or take a century. They were lonely, bored and at the end of their known world. So, they used straw and mud to make shelters. At the end of a glorious day they sat around and invented some new ideology.

Here is a picture from their album.

They were a long, long way from Roma-homa so they could do anything their little hearts desired.
However, they were passionate about maintaining power and control over the less educated masses so they created artificial time machines and so forth.

They got real smart real fast and learned, if they wanted to be in control they could manipulate the sheep and rule them using fear - fear of a higher spiritual force, economic poverty (nothing to eat), lack of adequate sanitation, no education etc. This really got the job done and everyone lived in harmony.

Peace.

Apparition

Greetings,

So I am eating salmon off a side street in Bursa, Turkey watching people pass by looking at the fish, carrying their plastic bags of vegetables and fruit and I saw a real ghost.

It was my father. The man had the age - about 65, face lines, perfectly parted hair, glasses - a nervous twitch around his lower lip when he stopped nearby at a shop to inquire about tools or batteries.

He wore clean well styled black dress shoes. Retired. Casual slacks, button downed dress shirt and light blue jacket.

It was his height, thin frame, upright posture, severe serious eyes. The striking resemblance was his face, especially along his narrow cheek, aged yet mature - old yet spry like a fox - a careful astute yet kind man.

Bearing, attitude, manner, his personality this inherent hard won wisdom. Then he disappeared into a shop with green door as the fish seller tossed a silver mackerel to a black and white cat. The quick cat dragged it into cover.

Vision's memory.