It's snowing dry leaves yet again, O Phaedrus. Sunspeckled, turning-wurning small leaves that turn from shade to snow.
And as we walk pulling our cloaks tight around our winter selves, the light pouring in without the protecting canopy reveals all our empty spaces sans mercy, O Phaedrus, you of the insane lostness....
Dec 23rd, 2004
And as we walk pulling our cloaks tight around our winter selves, the light pouring in without the protecting canopy reveals all our empty spaces sans mercy, O Phaedrus, you of the insane lostness....
Dec 23rd, 2004
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