flying
place me in the mirror of your heart where love refracts; oil in puddles, birthing a rainbow on the dirty ground. you tell me oil is denser than water and talk me of the colour of the sky; but i am a...
View Article91. cultivating life
a vibrant note of a harpsichord flies in: a coloured bird, a richly feathered parrot. i feel alive; a spark travelling down a strip of litmus paper, exhuberantly coloured, incadescently moving. such...
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