Drag and Pull

Amidst the green, I start to talk to myself:
-Where the fuck am I?!
The stones are gathered all around me, I see tiny doors with secret entrances, on a long vast dominion that isn’t secret, it’s a long age.
-Where are the freemasons?!
Jack in the green, spotted me and asked me for a few cents.
-Where are you going?! Asked him.
I answered:
-I don’t know, I just see green and stones everywhere. The brouilliard is ancient, all I can see around me is spotless leaves that don’t go anywhere, anyhow, lost treasure is regarded throughout buildings of all colours and shapes.
I can breathe history and O2 that’s coming towards me like a flush.
Tempest and storm are rising, but all’s quiet, only whispers can be heard, ascending in a circle of stones. I gaze upwards with fear of falling; I gather foot after foot and contemplate the art ant the heart that is mixed with all this.
Painted tiles, Byron, Christian Andersen, a slow and quiet market; where nobody walks or talks into.
Branches and roots on the soil, I gaze at them and they talk to me :
-what are you wondering?!
-Why are you here?!
I descend and pass towards them with fear of breaking their fragile texture.
Green and brown spotted elsewhere, but at the same time there. I sit and smoke a cigarette, see eyes everywhere and colourless blinks on the landscape.
The grass isn’t cut, too many entrances, too many doors to enter to. Small doors that ain’t cut to shreds, they live and enter towards ink and ink that’s fuelled by gasoline, but that isn’t my desire. 

Desireless and with comfort on their eyes, glasses are broken into little pieces, while I pick piece by pieces.
I don’t see or ear any birds, there aren’t any statues; moving people that don’t want to go anywhere. 

A colourful event is described as a landscape being sculpted and supportive of feelings and things that appear and disappear.
I feel the moist and the texture, time isn’t to be turned back. I sit once again, listen to a sparrow, while it whispers to me.
-It’s all so simple…
I continue to gaze all around and I wonder:
I know where I am.
I wonder only what am I.