Twenty nine days of February

Ancient shout in this sentient tremor of mine, preprogrammed exclamation for targeted visions of never fully developed potentials, leaving me with unsound thoughts of unclear futures. Living in this comfort of convenience I realize that through experiences and expressive interpretations of my actions, I meet my actual complexity in my simplicity... in this world, where sun appears every day on the same side for eons by now, I’m moving through constant reshaping and occult transformations, just like this winter in another leap year.

In here, in my room with green light, between the lake and the mountain, my fabric is colored with curiosity, never evanescing me into conformity, always persisting me into the unfamiliar. Spring to me, right now, in my April at the start of my February with twenty nine days…