I'm closing my eyes and the noise of the street catches me. Heavy, viscous air transformed into the filthy hands of some musky smell
I can’t help thinking of you and where you might be
I can’t even remember how exactly I got here, wandering along the dusk-drenched market ... as if someone dragged me here, drawing a clear gap in my memory
My legs keep moving on their own .. I'm falling asleep under the rhythm of drums coming from inside...(a bird flying above the market roof brings me back to reality) it makes me instinctively bend my neck, and our steamy discussions of Hitchcock pop into the memory causing blast (smiling at the thought....The Birds...)
The kingfisher sat on the fragile side of the shabby hut...under the dim beam of the streetlight its tiniest scratches were revealed to the eyes. Light enlightens every single wrinkle we have, every single flaw. But with the right approach it'll flatter your skin under the best angle you'd find
I’m slowing almost to a halt.. You left nothing but that morning paper the little street boy shoved into our hands the other day and I've already looked it back and forth for clues. But what about the lamp light trick?
What if you threw the light, in the end?
"Adventures of T and P" part ;;;
; This is the next day after "I opened my eyes to shudder" post
I've prepared lots of stuff for these buddies
фото - отрывок моего произведения