Catching up on
old times, our words flow
I think what I adore with Haikus is the often so very unsuspected last line. These tiny exquisite shocks – like a shift from coming from a crowdy room into a outdoor pavilion where they play Mozart
Tears of joy, tears of sadness; tears of ecstasy, tears of pain–tears come in so many varieties, as do our memories.
I love this.
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Japan through a haiku lens
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