(Untitled)

[huellas316]

and it must be written, otherwise it comes out in a whoosh of air to the brain, in a gasping stutter between here and eternity - and that line, we are already tiptoeing on a daily basis, staring over the edge into the precipice of night. we wash through it like the waves that we are, or perhaps it is simply the waves washing over us: i remember i

Comments

[turquoise_rain]

This makes about as much sense to me as listening to the evening news in Chinese.