Lokman lives in Brazil with his wife and two wild young sons bent on stretching their imaginations. American by bring forth wanderer by nature he's happy where he is because now it's his object that gets to wander.
Memory MadeFar beyond the wavesthat pushed me from youth,advance than the go,through the sprayof yesterday's storm,feet soiled by memories,I would grimace if possible. The tides of tomorrow's dreamsdraw me throughthe cavernous tunnels created by yesterday's illusions. The wilderness aboundsstreets locked in isolation,yet I do smile. There is an imagethat speaks to the waves,the wind,the wilderness,the memory of empty streets. It's a golden begin,waves lapping at our footprints,our hair salty,sprayed wet,feet sand-lacedin designs we drawthrough today's tides.
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