untitledI don't know what's going on here. Short but sweet. Expressing the artist adoration for a person. A bit of a love story going off here.untitled
WednesdayWalksByShe watches me, through the gap in her curtains, into the grey of the winters sky.WednesdayWalksBy
'Why?' she asks as I walk past, wearing that brown scarf, In which she bought for me, last fall.
Oblivious to everything. I walk on by, to await this again, next wednesday.
the PostCardA discarded postcard, torn, creased, and abandoned on the red of the autumn ground. Adressed to you, my friend? A passport to chain of thoughts and ideas. Franked in Paris, why here? The rainwashed writing, too damaged to read. Slide it in my satchel, somebodies memories, now mine.the PostCard
Devious Journal Entry
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