| underneath_the_whipping_wires | ||
| birdmad |
stand in the shadow of the black_clouds_rolling in from the east and up from the south, swirling wind embedding the comforting sweet smell of the panaderîa in my nose along with the faint smell of an unlikely rain underneath the whipping wires, swaying as breeze kicks up into gusts, cooler than any of the summer's worst winds, far from any weeping willows, but just past downwind of any number of winos scattered and tucked away in the shadows of the avenue with their grizzled, sunburnt faces next to the post watching the wires sway what if they fall yeah, what if? really no big deal. |
030904 |