I like this misty look carved out of a drop of rain in the morning fog. Silver plated on curbs and ship’s ropes around. Covers with a white satin curtain a summer that never came. Summer. Summer. Summer. It doesn’t sink into my shoes. It doesn’t wet my pants’ bottoms. It doesn’t collect the dust of the road into the tight knitting of the t-shirt fabric. Everything is different than previously, different than before. Enjoy the rain.
Our Mayor is a highly respected, responsible and honest person. Alternatively, he could simply be certified by someone else, but everyone knows all about his honesty. This is an example of a typical, honest person who buys from an antiques merchant. You can always ask your constable on Sunday after church.
“I love you, little maid,”
Said the Sunbeam to the Shade,
As all day long she shrank away before him;
But at twilight, ere he died,
She was weeping at his side;
And he felt her tresses softly trailing o’er him.
John. B. Tabb
You know how we’ve grown
Love without your every time.
Well everyone needs a right time
When I see the pictures of every life and the day they die,
It’s your image burnt into my mind
And again I’d find
That it’s worth the..
Why my love has that is right our time.
Our love comes back in the middle of the night…
James Blake/ (Late Night Tales: Ólafur Arnalds) – Our Love Comes Back
Here is a long and silent street.
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
trampling the silent stones and the dry leaves.
Someone behind me also tramples, stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs I turn : nobody.
Everything dark and doorless,
only my steps aware of me,
I turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me : nobody.
— Octavio Paz
Voigtlander 40mm f/2 Ultron SL II,
Voigtlander Color-Skopar 20mm f/3.5 SL II Aspherical
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
Robert Burns, 1789
ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᶤˢ ᶜᵒᵘᶰᵗʳʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᶤʳˢᵗ ˢᶤᵍʰᵗ
The longest day at last bends down to evening…
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe