lee

[datura3]

they speak of the calm before a storm. like the air lying down in wait, receptive and seductive. i'm at a café window longing to be outside. outside there is a metal chair and table covered in little puddles glinting like wax. a leaf caresses the table in the wind, as if in love with steel. looking at this, i'm convinced that nothing is mute, blind

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[basement]

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