waiting for a warmer time and for this commercialized holiday to come to an end.

[themurphyslaw]

when whiskey is speaking from our lips we sit and melt with sweet slurs and sounds. the strings and boards and sticks and stones make the music of the night and the bed of the fields. the air is sweet, the smoke even sweeter. windchimes are the backbeat of a summer night's symphony and we simply sit and listen to what we have made

Comments

PEVS! oy vey.

[semmi]

sorry this is so late i just got home. okay your pevs are:29.5, 30.4, 31.3.