who knows if the moon’s

a balloon,coming out of a keen city

in the sky–filled with pretty people?

(and if you and i should

get into it,if they

should take me and take you into their balloon,

why then

we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:

go sailing

away and away sailing into a keen

city which nobody’s ever visited,where

always it’s Spring)

and everyone’s

in love and flowers pick themselves

/E.E.Cummings/

Mám rada Cummingsove Tulipány a komíny a špeciálne túto báseň o balónovom mesiaci-- fotky vznikli pri celkom inom fotení (svadobného oznámenia) a objavila som ich náhodou. Venované pre L., ktorá musí ležať, ale lietala by--

(leto tiež ešte celkom neodletelo)