A Ridge, cold air in a soft stream
Rolling down
Kissing the contours
Fawning a pattern
It was said
What’s unsaid, glues us together
As I stop to look
A vision floats into view
Everything. Where it should be
A Ridge, cold air in a soft stream
Rolling down
Kissing the contours
Fawning a pattern
It was said
What’s unsaid, glues us together
As I stop to look
A vision floats into view
Everything. Where it should be
This blog will just be filled up by words i scribble from time to time. I usually write on paper napkins,newspaper clippings, back pages of novels etc. So i thought maybe its nice to keep em in some place more permanent. There is absolutely no meaning to what i write, its just an attempt to put into words, the images i see from time to time. Like they say on the Rizla, 10 paper alert :" It is what you make of it " :)