WHERE IS MY MIND?

Our mind is a fabulous means. We can travel anywhere with our thought. Our dreams are made up of stories, a mixture of physical and mental places, past memories and future projections. What remains in the morning are shreds, puzzle pieces, images, sometimes blurred and sometimes clear. In a word, oneiric.
Where is my mind?
Where is my mind?
Each one of us runs after those dreams in everyday’s reality.

I’m a dreamer and the street, as in a lucid dream, gives me dream images.