|zarlardinge art route. one fine sunday a few weekends ago|
everybody's talking at me. not really. the song pops up in my head as i feel like writing a blogpost tonight. it was that kind of autumn day: soft, still, warm, blue, sunny. i mean, what more, right?
|the golden building lighting up. i work opposite|
i don't hear a word they're saying. but i do! i hear every word. the bröntes are holding me in a tight grip, mfk fischer's jennie is coming in at novella four. i have a few more voices sitting waiting.
|trees have an effect on me, i cannot explain. i love their hovering|
only the echoes of my mind. summer echoes. great minds. i'm just in the mood for being cryptic and let the fall wash over me. don't feel offended. soon the winds from all four directions will be blowing, bringing us different stuff.