A delicate battery-like smile, the rusted wire of a forgotten fence, the empty beauty of a building, moonlight, peeled apple skies, a forecast of fake accents, letters in a stolen purse.
Boats in the water… who doesn't love the scent of promised gold and lilacs, so much that it looks like it fell from the sky. Coins on the eyes of one, not bad for a vessel of passion and humbleness, now we wait on the red banks, we wait on the morning muteness that dissolves into daylight.