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Saturday, February 27, 2010
This one's simple:
Transient 'hers' overwhelm me. There I am, at the bottom of this well.
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Wanderlust
Stevie
There, on the horizon, the sun hovers. Watch how she beckons. She asks us to run away, the sunset drawing every molecule of our being into it. And it's no wonder we wish we could fly.
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This one's simple:
The Passion
Sometimes Things Get... whatever.
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Here Comes the Rain Again
Passion
He runs. Through streets, in the face of his own ...
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