I was, I was really only examining the walk of my feet when suddenly I sensed the wind wriggling the American flag, right there, 5 feet on the left side of the street… Somehow it reminded me of the sound of those straggling wings of some caged bird I have heard at the only ZOO they have back in my country. Oh, how they always make me feel so sad and desperate… And then it hit me, the itch of inspiration where my mind begins to dive deep into the colors and the feathers of that unknown bird so that all of that can come together on the surface of my skin. It was morning and bright enough so that I could do well with the hallucinations of those three colors melting everywhere on me… Blue, red and white… It felt like scratching, like the right moment for me to scream on how I hate being part of a nation, of any nation at all. Eventually, I screamed it out, and maybe it didn’t come out as a poetry as it usually does…
Few days after landing in L.A.