I photographed my gardens in their Monsoon plerosis on an evening when "Sobrevivir a un fusilamiento: ocho historias reales" and a Gazan preserving books cut an ontogenetic stentorian in my heart - my heart needed an epicanthic of green, a Nicht that really is a Weltinnenraum, to write that night.

I apologize for my late response. Here are two poems - both by the poet Paash - I trust you will find interesting, and will not require that you be aware of Persian or Awadhi etymological stems. I would be happy to transcribe &/or transliterate these for you should you find that more convenient.

My writing setup for quite a few nights now with platitude and hopelessness both a bilateral protomatter - a trefoil heeding both the "pure will" of Schopenhauer and the vigalitavedyantara of words and amphibrachs across a trefoil heeding Berezovsky's legatos for Medtner.

#litsky

My Dum Biryani! Hofmannsthal considered désoeuvrement as inertia of being as being dichotomous: writing - and the library - evokes a certain apotropaic response, while the garden and a solo-cooked meal quietens it enough to allow feeling and thought to supersede response.