During the Revolution the forest became the refuge of the pursued and the destitute.
“It's too much for one man.”
The man appeared to climb over a wrought iron barrier. It was midnight. All that which was not a part of his love now fell away from him and was swept into the nebulous distance.
Surely this was not the spy, this lean shadow I had seen for a moment - I grabbed the carnation behind my ear and threw it in a mud puddle and then I stood there looking at it, more or less so I wouldn't have to think of anything else. It’s a dead world.
The sky was black with white birds flying across it. It was quite a different heart.
“Oh my Reality!” the calm wind swears into that.
I have never wanted to kiss you, and my mother didn't have any breasts. (In them we may find reflection of all human emotion, and for the subtly attuned soul, they have emotions of their own.)
It is the same each day.
Does there have to be an echo in everything? Yes, and half the fun is in the pretense. It’s like cotton candy.
Having said this, he again mounted his horse and departed.
“It's too much for one man.”
The man appeared to climb over a wrought iron barrier. It was midnight. All that which was not a part of his love now fell away from him and was swept into the nebulous distance.
Surely this was not the spy, this lean shadow I had seen for a moment - I grabbed the carnation behind my ear and threw it in a mud puddle and then I stood there looking at it, more or less so I wouldn't have to think of anything else. It’s a dead world.
The sky was black with white birds flying across it. It was quite a different heart.
“Oh my Reality!” the calm wind swears into that.
I have never wanted to kiss you, and my mother didn't have any breasts. (In them we may find reflection of all human emotion, and for the subtly attuned soul, they have emotions of their own.)
It is the same each day.
Does there have to be an echo in everything? Yes, and half the fun is in the pretense. It’s like cotton candy.
Having said this, he again mounted his horse and departed.
