"balconies where i met with solomon." I will soon finish my page, make my coffee with sugar that no one sees, put on my hat that protects me from the sun (however it attacks!), go out to the balcony, load my legs on top of each other, entrust my hair to the speedy winds. it happens, maybe, if there was someone, I'll see things that I would point out, perhaps I'll see a giant behind the city, perhaps I'll see a seagull already prowling, a pigeon, a tumbling pigeon, a pigeon, perhaps even a white one, in case, perhaps a prophet I'll see, I'll see solomon.