El Salon Mexico

A monopoly of sorts upon waking, every thought from lucid dreams resounding to outshadow or outshine the rest of the day, depending on what vibrational valve you choose to embrace. Every rhythm, every movement, every gesture seems to take over and its okay. The instability isn’t so bad when your feet are in motion to it, flowing along to the serendipitous bliss. While I’m not sashaying in a salon in Mexico twisting and twirling away, I keep drawing my attention to such salon. It’s this image or those of willful horses running alongside the uptide and I’m on the white stallion riding wild that I tune into. It’s the cabana chair that whisks me away to these thoughts at dawn. I can picture it without the fresh coat of snow of course in a salon in Mexico, vacant still because everyone is dancing, together, so beautifully in sync until darkness falls on the horizon.

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