My Room in My Absence. How would my room seem in my absence. Ever dwelling loneliness, There maybe. Lay across my bed seeing the mirror. Sun-drawn arts of window, could. Wander as like on the walls and floor. Daffodils on the wide open pot, perhaps. Be at the prayer to the dancing Krishna. The pleasing scent of bath room, Could. Be talking to the dripping drops in silence. About the nudes ever watched.

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I wonder why he is called FLY. Is he the icon of the best flyer in the world every aeronautics engineer should envy? At closer look with him this morning, parking in an uneven airport without any rubber wheels. It is awe inspiring experience. As I examine his wings, judging from the thinness and lightness compared to its body, it is impossible for this creation to fly. Who makes him fly? Now I know why it is called a FLY. Posted June 5, 2014 by raycoyphotography.