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Kaito's Journal - The annoying onesIt’s at times like these that I like to sit and think. I leave people behind because people are useless… in these regards at least. What use is ‘talking it out’ when they’ve no idea what it is that they’re talking about? Especially when they don’t understand how a mind works- mine, for example, works in riddles. I’m almost entirely certain this memo to no one in particular will hold at least a few sentences that might not otherwise be completely understood by an outside reader, but that’s okay, this is to ‘talk it out’ after all. Either way, the average being cannot even begin to understand the enigmas of another’s mind, because they’re all different. What use is there in explaining what the problem is, if you yourself already know it and can solve it briskly by speaking in tongues to yourself or a wall or the violin you broke years ago and keep in mangled pieces beneath your bed. I for one think that lockin
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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