noouyKozmo77 publication include: www.kozmo77.deviantart.com  www.twitter.com/kozmo77 www.myspace.com/kosmo77

E-mail Paul Marshall at p.m.77@hushmail.com for his books on Amazon.com.
=I SEE PALM TREES WALKING (a compilation of poetry, plays, scientific discourse, humor)
= I AM THIER MUSICK (a book of essay’s spanning 10 years)
= THE SUBJECT (a novel about the glamourous life of a jewel/art thief and hitman arriving at a crisis of conscience)
= HEAVEN, HELL AND LIFE HAPPENING (a book of art, photography, graphics and copywriting)
= HIRED GUN  (essays before, during and after the apocalyptic May 21, 2011 judgment day predictions.)
=Pussycat Chronicles (an 8 Act Play about a bad kitty)
=Mars Hill, Hard Knock Files and the Flying Rats in progress

 

RELATED ORGANIZATIONS   www.biblearchaeology.org http://askdrbrown.org/ http://renewingyourmind.org/?gclid=CIXcjYWQjcICFYNufgodGCEATQ    http://www.ligonier.org/  http://www.oneplace.com/ministries/let-my-people-think/ www.familyradio.com  http://www.truthnetwork.com/ http://www.rts.edu/ www.virtualbible.net www.wecanknow.com www.ebiblefellowship.com www.wordofchrist.net

 yyy
Help contribute to Studio Fortizzimo’s (Kozmo77) efforts to get important information to the world by puchasing books by Paul Marshall at www.Amazon.com and www.kozmo77.deviantart.com
 ggbdgf
pyyhrer
yyee
koy
p-pype
plpppiy
poyrrre
pytpte
ibyt
nuyy
fdbddby
ddw
egegd
gbfdhye
gfmgr
htjhtdr
ooeew
oowwf
pppede
wwf32whg
pmpii
popaa
vuvtt
(Here is a small portion of the research that many of us, over many years, discovered as evidence for JUDGMENT DAY May 21, 2011.  Obviously we were wrong.  Perhaps this could be some insight as to how the human brain differs from the mind of GOD, and how his ways are not our ways.  GOD bless)    Numerous Biblical sources are revealing this knowledge according to Daniel 12:4,9,10 and significant time junctures from Old and New Testament events. I just wanted you to see an outline I’ve made based on some research I’ve found. Here is how the Bible is showing us that hell is a 5 month period here on earth that will thereafter be destroyed along with this universe in 2011. The evidence points UNMISTAKINGLY in this direction. Please, ask any questions you may have. Revelations 20:10 = And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever. -The first point is that day and night refer to the earth revolving around the sun. And it is under this cycle of day and night that contains the lake of fire. That means the lake of fire is being administered here on earth. -The second problem is that the earth and solar system are supposed to be destroyed, annihilated by a fervent heat (2nd Peter 3:10, 12; Deuteronomy 28) that this lake of fire is sitting upon. -The third problem is what does “for ever and ever” mean in Rev. 20:10 if hell itself is going to be annihilated along with the earth, sun, moon and other planets after the beast is tormented “day and night” in this 5 month period (Rev. 9:5). The reason we can attribute hell as being destroyed along with everything else is because hell in the Bible is also referred to as the sea. This is what the devil, demons and all followers of satan are cast into alive in Rev. 19:20 for 5 months (Revelations 9:5; Deuteronomy 28; James 4:14; Revelations 11: Deuteronomy 18) before they are annihilated. Revelations 21:1 = …for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away: and there were no more sea. 2nd Peter 3:6 = Whereby the world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished. The following verses are less elusive in referring to hell as the sea. Revelations 13:1 = …And stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea Jude 1:13 = Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever. Mathew 8:26, 27 = …Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea…that even the winds and the sea obey him! The sea was rebuked like satan was in the wilderness tempting Jesus and the sea obeyed like the demons who left the man, entering the pigs and driving them into the sea (Luke 8:33) which represented their home in hell. Micah 7:19 = …and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea. Isaiah 27:1 = …slay the dragon that is in the sea And of course we are all familiar with the Pharaoh and his soldiers drowning in the Red Sea (Exodus 14:23-28, 30) as a symbol of being consumed by hell and as the chosen people were led by Moses to the promise land representing Heaven. Atop the frightening revelation that hell along with all of the condemned will cease to exist after a 5 month period, 2nd Peter 3:3-12 and Mathew 24:37-39 ties our time with Noah’s time that we are being warned of the great flood of hell. In the way that at the end of the 7 days of Noah warning the people, the flood occurred, at the end of 7000 years after the flood (4990 B. C. ) the end of all unholy existence will occur. This date appears to be October 21, 2011, five months after the rapture of all whom Christ has had mercy on. According to the sacred Hebrew calender (used for festivals like Passover, etc. ) May 21, 2011 is the same day as the 17th day of the 2nd month; when the world wide flood began (Genesis 7:11). Spiritually, 17 represents heaven and 2 represents worshippers of Christ in the Bible. Oct. 21, 2011 is on the 23rd day of the 7th month of the sacred Hebrew calender. Spiritually, 7 represents perfection and 23 represents judgement in the Bible. Perfect Judgement. Significance of 17 is in: Genesis 47:27, 28; Gen. 37:2,3; 1Kings 14:21. 2 is in: Revelations 11:3; Acts 1:10; Hebrews 10:28. 7 is in: Revelations 1:12-20; Mathew 18:21,22; Acts 6:3; Joshua 6:4-15. 23 is in: Esther 8:9-12; Jeremiah 52:17,30; 1Corinthians 10:8. And theres much more where those came from. Daniel 12:4 … “and knowledge shall be increased. ” verse 9 “… for the words are closed up and sealed till the time of the end. ” verse 10 “… and none of the wicked shall understand; the wise shall understand.
Advertisements

jujhyt

Your hair, more than a crown, but a black rose, around your face, a pollen for my soul.       – April 2013

Can I keep your lips moist
with a bundle of fresh wet grapes?
Can I butter up your soft cheeks
with hot warm kisses and cream cheese crepes?
Let me shower you with my love
Like an eager bouncy puppy on your newly purchased drapes.
On this hot Summer night
Let me graphic design on your back
the sail of our ship and height of our flight
Let me write sports up and down your arm with the pen of my tongue
I’ll do event sales up and down your leg with the music we once sung….
-May 2014

Lil’ bitch Lib’s go home
(to Canada)
The Ultimate Winner
Is King Trump
Don’t go to your safe space bubble dome
And cry a river
Or cut your faggot wrist
On a tree stump
Lil’ bitch Lib’s go home
(to Canada)
Pay 2 grand to your criminal addicts
to shoot cops in North Korea
Protest in Cuban streets
Show Arab nations your diarrhea
Go south with the El Chapo lovin’ freaks
Lil’ bitch Lib’s go home
(to Canada)
Your fake news is obvious to all
Gay mafia Hollywood elite trolls
Feelings and Fantasy politics crumble and fall
Pinko propaganda, take a permanent stroll
Lil’ bitch Lib’s go home
(to Canada)
The Ultimate Winner
Is King Trump,
Chump                     -Jan. 2017

Even though I won’t be there,
Let me medicate your cheeks,
With the ointment of my kisses.
Easy, slow and wet upon your lips.
Good Morning, Sweetheart.
Wake up
and soothe my soul
With your soft, gorgeous eyes.   -March, 2013

th7fc5b1p0

Ivanka Trump, photo not by Paul Marshall

 

I had a dream Saturday morning.  We were in this repair garage… very hectic and noisey. Than it got really quiet and one of us started playing with a hanging chain and singing this beautiful, simple low tone song. It was so beautiful, I thought of the words and wrote it down when I woke up. It went like this:

Golden locks
blonde, thick,
curly and true.
Not knowing
your name or story too.
But I love you
Before your creamy
perfect face,
soft curvy hips,
melted where my mind flies.
The sun’s setting light,
reflected GOD’s glory from Heaven
from the crystalline windows
of your gorgeous eyes

Getting lost in her gorgeous Russian eyes, I periscoped her fruitful tight ass, then I knew the love of God had graced mankind. -Jan. 2014

Refresh my cells in your bubbling Spirit
Science is the art of Jah’s creative genius
As a partaker of your fruits
Jah of creation
I put my hand to the plow,
The juice of vigor in my veins
Labor the field in the corn of the Word
And exercise to edify
A dance with the Holy Ghost

by Kozmo, feb. 2011

Across the Universe
Vibrating energy seethes to break free
And another electron orbits the nucleus of verse
To open the spiritual eyes to see
A soft breath utters the lanquage of love
By way of carrying her soul to the stars as a dove
Tears stop, the fire of vigorous delight is set
Amidst the sea of life, another heart is captured with Almighty’s net

=by Paul Marshall,  Feb. 2011

image0008

Seeketh Him that maketh the seven stars and Orion,  A bird on a wire,  prepares for slumber over the city,  The moon spotlights the dark production of strangers buyin’,  A girl from Boulder drives on,  her soul hopeful and giddy,  The LORD blesses the hills with camel hair grass,  Hiding behind brick temples,  where hipsters come to worship,  Dinner is being had,  spices sprinkled on the fleshly socail mass,  Tonight’s fight rigged from the start, the boxer splits with more than his lip,  The sky is crying, screaming “Please look up at me!”  Tears of the Messiah rain down from Heaven,  Like great drops of blood, can the wound in our soul help us see?  The grapes are ripe,  the eaters of Bread are ready to rise, to be leavened,  But the traffic gives a second thought to Samsons glory,  Not his sacrifice, that his loss might be gain in The Kingdom,  And the d.j.’s sell thier sounds, washing lies with a forty,  Where is our David? A king to remind us not to repeat Sodom, or the sins of history.  Seeketh Him that maketh the 7 stars and Orion.  That the Messiah might live in our soul.

=by Paul Marshall,   Sept. 2010

Shadows of feet, step by step
Alone in the desert, silence permeates rock
A marriage of rubber sole and radiating pavement heat
Fire in the sky, bearing down on an endless road
And a weary soul, on an odyssey for salvation
……A song is being born
In the soundtrack of my hallucination
Dehydration is becoming quenched
By the sight of an oasis of hope
I see palm trees walking
Over the amber dunes, a cluster refuge becomes clearer
Under the shade, my famish will relinquish
Because the kiss of an angel awakens me from stupor
She feeds me the fruit of life and takes my hand
I am lead just over a hill to the Jeweled City
Alive, together we love with the love that is the Son of the Morning.

=Paul Marshall, Sept. 2010

Tell me you love me, baby,  As we wake on the rising of the morning sun,  On the beach,  where God’s glory crashed with the waves,  Tell me you love me, sweet baby,  When the kelp filled water falls between your toes,  And the dawn light glistens off your moist lips,  Tell me you love me, you Flower,  When the wing’s of Christ fly us away from here,  The wind only chilling the earth below,  Tell me you love me,  Before the building of the wall of jasper,  And the city of pure gold like clear glass,  I love you, my darling,  Only because Yahweh is Love,  And Jah lives in the Kingdom within.

=by Paul Marshall, Sept. 2010

The sun sets over Starbucks traffic,

The football crowd waits at the train station,

Blondes sit on the bench,

They read marine biology to thier boyfriends,

Beautiful, rich, bored…thier god is Sinatra,

But your GOD, my love, is the One and Only.

=by Paul Marshall, Sept. 2010

All the creatures sing,  In the sea, on the land, in the sky above,  About the glory of the Almighty Lord,  Coming down with His mighty angels,  Let Him sheild you with His wings,  The beauty of your hair,  Cascading over the gleaming light in your eyes,  To sit with you in the sun,  On the cool grass,  With the wind of the Spirit blowing in your ear,  Whispering in your ear,  Sweetness passes from our lips,  by and by….

-by Paul Marshall, Sept. 2010

In the distance, cascades call your name
Sun’s smile trickles in it’s waves
Droplets of kisses gather like diamonds
Bounced from the Tree of Life
Waterfalls spray, like Love onto an empty grave

=July 2011

Whoa! Whoa!The power of thee
Crashing against the rough
Fresh and alive here in the sea
My lips on yours, can be no bluff
Barefoot upon a rock shoreHigh in the night,
close to the moon
Saltiness passes in the air to allureI bring you a song,
to you I will swoon
Let your toes curl on the wet living sand
Embracing, like the crabs, hand to hand
Whales songs travel to our ears
The seconds in your moist hold are like years
Rolling like turtles over and over
Helpless by love,
your kiss strong as clover
Subdued under me, pressed on the beach
You cannot escape, you and I attached as a leach
Chocolate thunder, Vanilla lightening
Every pain, every feeling, ecstasy so good, it is frightening
=July 2011

Don’t worry Baby
I’ll deep rub that sting right out
Rest your moist, ripe fruit
Against my warm hands
Squeeze ’em? Juice ’em? Maybe? 😉
Turn and look at me, Beloved
Your face every morning
On my pillow
Is like the sun rising
In my heart
I love your face
Mmm…Sugar
Have mercy, like Heaven itself.     =April, 2013

lokigt

frploi

from 2nd novel, “The Subject. Act II”   c. 2007 by Paul Marshall
It smelled. Like a cocktail of baseball bats fresh from under the Dodger stadium sun and spoiled leather stained with the sweat of paranoia. And dogs. Lots of dogs. As airtight as the inside of this trunk seemed to be it was suprisingly spacious and almost comfortable with the air conditioning coming down the crack from the back seat. The Word was all he had. So he kept repeating it back to himself while the reapers of death sucked nicotine and passed the language of criminal frivolity to each other. “Proverbs 6:16. Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, sloth,” he would repeat to himself. This was all he could think about as he laid helpless in this late model Buick sepulchre. He looked up and read the message allowed by the crack of light scrawled above him that read, “I live the poetry all your pens are writing about.”

frdeee

by Paul Marshall, c. 2006

The day started slow. It was soaked in a soup of high pressure clouds. The city was glistening with the reflections of flashing signs from the shop windows and traffic lights. They were creating a symphony of moving color about the raw surface; sewer covers steaming, broken curbs stained with fish blood and gasoline, waste baskets, the occasional bag lady with the still remaining drops of stolen whiskey drying into the cracks of her forgotten face as she laid across the front steps of a recently closed actors studio.

Soon, all of this dissipated along with the rain as the days’ sun smiled down upon the oblivious mass of humanity.  The thief was back in New York. After breakfast with an acquaintance in her top level condo overlooking Central Park, they finished in front of an interactive plasma screen that played music programmed by a computer.  Considerable time was taken up by a phone call to his business partner in L.A. The club owner. There was some debate on how to best use thier investment on the public relations work for thier artist. They also wanted to work on a deal as soon as possible on selling those stolen diamonds.

“Look you near sighted bat! I know you find it impossible to put your head down all night but you need to get some sleep and get your head together! Your getting way in over your head with all of these deals you keep on making!”, the club owner friend said to the thief. “Come on now, things are moving along.” “First things first. Thats not how you run a business. Okay! I run a business! There are things that you must do first! There are rules! Even with us. ”  =Page 73

Steinvorg continues. “But Napolean, my friend, pales in comparison to the Third Reich’s Fuhrer. His brilliant strategy to disable through appropriation of the various arts, mainly paintings; ushered the greatest Leviathan theft of art the world has ever known. By ransacking Europe and Russia, numerous sculpturs, prints, artifacts, paintings…came under new ownership. My Great Uncle was Alfred Rosenberg, may he rest in peace, the chief policy maker for the ERR, the agency used by Hitler for confiscation activities. Thier job was to sieze Jewish artifacts. They ran a brilliant anti-semitic think tank. Eventually, just to show Napolean who was superior, the Nazi’s acquired one third of all art in French private collections. Such as the immense Rothschild collection. That family had more than five thousand pieces! Anyways, that leads us to Joseph Goebbels, the Third Reich’s minister of public relations and propaganda. Don’t tell anyone, but that’s where we got all of our campaign ideas. You can say our spiritual Karl Rove, in fact.  Hitler created a nifty project known as the ‘Repatriation of Cultural Goods from Enemy States’. In case you haven’t caught on yet, that is exactly what we are doing. By 1945 more than eight thousand paintings had been accumulated along with more than five thousand Old Masters intended for Hitlers home town museum in Linz, Austria. His right hand man in this realization was a director of the Dresden Art Gallery. A world class institution. This guy was backed by the Fuhrer and that power allowed him to secure the best works for the Linz museums over other art collectors. By plundering the economies of occupied countries they could have endless assetts at the obtainment of art even in the middle of a financially taxing war. Aryanized factories were key also. So then, the Fuhrer spent roughly $790 million in today’s standards. Thus, the greatest art collector of all time.”                                                  =Page 98, 99

Buy my novel “The Subject” via Amazon or email p.m.77@hushmail.com   This story is about a documentary film crew in a prison interviewing an international jewel/art thief turned hitman.  His glamourous life of schmoozing with club owners, elite lobbyist’s and venture capitalist’s hit’s a road block when he encounters a sudden crisis of conscience. 

kloip[p

Blood In, Blood Out

Posted: August 25, 2010 in Uncategorized

by Paul Marshall, copyright 2003

     In Mark 5, Jarius and his dying daughter represent another image of salvation. He is a true believer who can trust Christ to give life to his dead daughter. He does not hesitate or question the ability of Jesus. The woman in the second parable represents something unclean and unfit to come into the presence of God. To even think about such an atrocity as if to approach the Rabbi and defile Him with her touch, is a grave miscalculation. Salvation is depicted in both parables.

    We can start off mentioning the unfortunate and repulsive matter of the woman with unceasing flow of blood. This is on the scale of the great flood compared to a thunderstorm in the realm of menstrual cycles. But as alien as it may seem to relate to that, this is an image of everyday reality for most of us. Her flow is our sin before salvation.

    The woman’s uncleanliness made her unfit to be in the presence of the temple and would make anyone unclean whom she touched. You can imagine how she would feel pretty rotten when a thorough Ajax cleaning is required by anyone who is touched by her. This was God painting us a canvas to show us how our sin is vile to Him.

   We read on to find out this poor woman sought much help from many physicians but could find no remedies for her ailment. She was going to all the physicians but the right one. In essence, none of thier wisdom was sufficient for her problem. Her last hope was the Great Physician, which is Christ.

    This also came at a great cost to her.  She had spent all she had yet found no satisfaction; but grew worse. Sadly, money could not buy her health. Her condition was actually representing our sinful spiritual health before Christ. And the Great Physician paid the price Himself for His healed patients. Perhaps you’ve noticed a point Mark 5 makes that the Gospel cannot be bought.

    In her fear of scorn and reproach she took a great risk at doing what many others were doing. Simply touching Christ by the garment. All of these people touched Him yet Christ didn’t seem to notice. The bloody woman however definitely caught the attention of Christ. And it say’s in the 30th verse of Mark 5 that Jesus immediately knew that someone had used some of His power. His righteousness had gone out of Him, His power was being emitted on someone.

    During the final verses of this parable, this woman was very frightened of being scorned by Jesus. But her faith allowed her to be healed instantly! We can assume by Mark 5:24,30 that the rest who had touched Jesus did not recieve His righteousness because they were not coming to Jesus out of faith and hope in Him.

      We are also told that she was blessed by His righteousness, chosen to be saved, and became a child of God. We know this because Jesus calls the woman His daughter in verse 34 to avert her fears of scorn in the prior verse. She officially represents a very happy ending for all the true Jews throughout our planets history.

    A saved soul is painted for us throughout the life of Jarius also. So full of faith, Jarius ran to Christ not only to heal his sick daughter but to raise her back to this waking world from her temporal sleep.

     In the eyes of everyone she was clinically dead. So their heathen bellies bounced with laughter at the idea of Jesus raising the dead girl to life. They could not believe because they were unsaved. But his daughter was chosen by God to be saved. Therefore Christ would refer to her death as sleep (Mark 5:39).

    After raising Jarius’ daughter He tells her that she must eat immediately. Feeding the girl was not just a medically sound command to get nourishment for the body. Indeed, after being sick and dead for awhile, one can build up an appetite. But did Jesus not emphasize that He was the Bread of Life (John 6:54) and the Word (John 1:1-12; 6:63)?

Ode To GOD (epic poem)

Posted: August 8, 2010 in Uncategorized

Wandering, Plundering

Staggering, as my mind trips upon another open business

The streets are fresh with the breath of drunken college girls

And this is after my solitude…being alone with GOD

Alone among the thick late night coffee shop debauchery

I’m trying to be invisible among souls that swarm around me

Among the children of this world, they seem magnetically attracted to my person

In spite of my attempted transparency, they think me familiar, but I am an alien in thier world

I am forced to leave, lest I drown in thier sea of tempting shennanigans

The dark night hid me from the caffeinated jackels

And my potential shame as I walked on

With cold wind whispering numbing comfort in my ear, could this be the devil?

And the cool grass playfully tickling my soul in front of an old gothic courthouse

He makes me to lie in green pastures indeed

My rest is the engagement of conversation with the elements

So, for some moments I spoke wind, grass and Spanish gothic architecture

These were the languages of the streets

The 3am drive thru burrito is a warm walk in the night rain

Sleep is a rare commodity without a home, the head gets heavy, slumber is worth it’s weight in gold

With only University steps, mosquito infested hideaways, security guarded convention hall floors, open recording studios, and the most unglamorous locales to serve as a pillow

Cabbies stopping, they think I’m a confused tourist who needs a ride to the hotel

I wish I were so lucky

Tonight I dine at the Blue Iquana for my room and board

The old man in the corner is painting his canvas of an abstract city made of broken stain glass, he won’t mind

Neither will the goldfish at my table who playfully beckons me to just make the best of it

Do you mock me you finn flappin’ fool?

Who say’s I’m not making the best of it?

My plate is an hour late, still reading through my eyelids, the period of the night is so late it’s in birthpains for sun

Sleep deprivation is my clueless friend

Perhaps the bohemian waitress hasn’t noticed the trance I’m in from the cafe music

Which is swimming through my brain and draining out of my dialated pupils in bold shades of blue, green and peanut butter gold

Perhaps she hasn’t noticed my lack of a tip

The streets are dead with silence, yet my miserable soul walk on looking for another endeavor in a city that never live’s much past midnight

Oh GOD, where is my comfort amidst the comfortable?

My flesh stinks, my bones are weary

What day shall I sleep?

What day shall I have shelter?

Father!!!

You Christ have swept me from the state of no sleep and sweat drenched clothes,

To keen awareness in wisdom and a refreshed washing,

showered by your mercy

Then your rays of redemption does it’s work

drying me in warmth to sanctify

Though your blinding glory glares, my eyes are opened

The hidden girl is perched on her quiet hill top cliff dwelling bungalo patio

Her peace is known by me, as God’s

He has given me by spirit what He has given her by the world.

I’m feeding my senses with the flesh of a pig but my spirit is filled on the fuel of the King!

The walking dream continues, I swim through the Greek pillars and into a symphony of nature

One of the beautiful jogging souls, as their breasts sweat through the canyon

Thier soothing effect reminds me of the light yoke of Christ

At the sheer volume of intensity. I know it to be temporal with a mortal passing.

But on this day my soul has been an open gulf of flooding love from God to offer to any lifeform crossing my path

Be it vagrants, golden retrievers, heathens, and certainly beautiful nubile women kissed with gift of a Spanish/French accent.

When there is a void of destracting stimuli from the days, my mind is reeling with the frames of the many moons, beasts, crashing surf, elements and heathen lawbreakers that ultimately, in every passing drama on the stage of life, answer to Your Supreme Mighty Precepts

Your Mystery

=by Paul Marshall, c. 2003

A short 1 Act play set at about midnight at a bus stop in a large unnamed metropolis. This has long dialogue between 2 characters, Machavelli and Rasputan, trivializing over the origins and fate of the businesses across the street. Thier rhetoric of existentialist, logical, evolutionary and soulless survival is mitigated at the plays end by a character named Moses confining them in the small box by which they deserve with the line…”thou art fools.”

=”Don’t Drink The Bath Water” is a 2007 1 Act play by Paul Marshall. It can be seen in his book “I See Palm Trees Walking” c. 2009

Silence. It permeated the beams in the wall. The air around was heavy with it. Reverberating through every muscle fiber in his being. Holed up inside a strangers alien, yet cozy guest room, he managed to take a peak out of the window. The rain had ensconced the entire city below this thirty story bachelor pad. “Thanks for letting me stay over. My body feels like melted butter inside my organs.” “Don’t mention it.”  The acquaintance consoled the thief in his reply. The thief wasn’t sure if he should attempt to leave now or take advantage of the hospitality for a few more hours. Suddenly a thought came into his head about meeting someone in Tokyo and being far from it. He had to think for a second about where he indeed was at. But it didn’t matter now. Laying back and enjoying the sound of rain tap against the window was the small pleasure he only cared to meditate on.

   The innumerable parties going on in the streets below was not going to phase him a bit. The only true event worth captivating now was rain against silence. Sweet. Light. Bubbles on glass. Air, thick with the fresh vitality of silence. “Ahh, the music of this.” he said to himself. The sweetest sound in the universe right now. The thief’s imagination was peaking upward in the glory of the moment and the imagination drifted…..edging off into the world of dreams. Once again sleep had been his captor. A protector against the monsters of this world. His world. The rain had taken him into dreams controlled by new found desires, not possible in this city.  But a city kissed by the mouth of a divine architect.

    At this same moment in the pardigm of time, Tokyo was quite another story. The thiefs meetee was left high and dry without a meeter. But it was not a bad place for such a rondevouz to go south for the winter.