Wrong-way grain above the knees and below the pelvis. The nostalgia of lonely journeys on dark and familiar roads. A tiny acre of jade leaves in the night. Highlighting the dead chaff that will remain long after the killing frost brushes it all away. Vertical pebbles magnetized by patience. The silence of ponds. A single skewed note summons a starlight symphony. The indescribable beauty of the void. Of our lives.
4:55 p.m. - 2021-11-04
Recent entries:
The Rear of the Den - 2021-11-18
Not Short, In Short - 2021-11-18
Unstopperism - 2021-11-12
Five Musings - 2021-11-12
As Since Always - 2021-11-04
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