Kharma or freedom, the story continues...

Amsterdam, 14 July 2014...

Is it possible for a first impression to have a second chance, a chance for resurrection of the past, after all the last few weeks away from the Westerpark petting zoo have given me proper time for reflection, continue my Kharma improvement of the last ten years by shovelling bovine shit, goat dropping and Shetland pony manure, clean bunny rabbit cages and chicken runs of goofy crap...

Zoom, zoom zoom into a different reality, a different time and a very diffrent world, one of soft hearted third world hookers ands street walkers, Siamsato drunk prostitues massing on Pattaya's boulevard, Ermita's bars in far-away Manila full with Hunting Girls, draw the faces of Putazas in dark holed bars of Central-American alcohol drenched Paises, Kenia's black skinned night crawlers of the female gender willing to hook up with any Mgunzu in the possession of a wallet drooping with Shilling, maybe make Europe my playground again, Auto-stop and railing, bussing across ancient Europe as used to be my life in early adolescence, surviving on my city aquarels and portrait drawings, a bit of nighttime receptionist work for overnight accomodation...

Zoom, zoom, zoom and my cell doing its notorious peacefull soul wrecking Ding Ding Ding, Pas De Raison for looking at the screen, know perfectly well Big Brother Kharma Improvement Team is sticking its crappy head into my refound freedom, dreams of former times coming back with each new day away from necessary Kharma building goodwill....

Should I ignore the pressing voice in the dusty backroom of my gray brain mass and continue making Indian Games, sell them by the sackfull and save Beaucoup D'Argent for these plans far away from my beloved Mokum, tell Laura The Titless, the farm's CEO to go to high heaven and beyond...

Kharma or freedom, the story continues...