essay: 095 : Sweet strains of Piaf
I
ponder.With a mind, never at peace.With itself.Searching eternally.Drove, through banks of fog.6am, this morning.God, it was beautiful.Neon suffused.Oceans mists.Thought of Berlin.The sweet strains of Piaf.Drifting, through my ipod world.Should I write words.That make you weep?Or smile, like atomic suns...J'adore.Every.Last.Drop...# #
No comments:
Post a Comment