U na story come from nothing, with a word, a whisper in the wind blown. Reality 'grows slowly, letter to letter, word for word. I repeat the words that I come in, sometimes I make it myself a few, and the reality 'continues to grow, so' the feelings that grow as they expand more and more '. Cold, wet, rivulets of rain that I roll down ', light skin and gather along the moistened your t-shirt and jeans ...
Read the rest of this post ... » 
0 comments:
Post a Comment