scrawls
still cheaper than therapy*


13.9.10
a glider, over the city, just below the autumn clouds of morning. So delicate, so slow, and i imagine the pure silence of it. Compare to here on the road, the cars and the trucks and buses and the construction scrapes and hammers, big-man motorcycles with no mufflers, horns and radios and people shouting, and i look up and the glider skims the cumulus underside like a waterbug.

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scrawled @ 08:19






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