to listen now, just now, like i am listening and feeling these skies and these words and these gray-scales. touching the grass with our hands, not the flaming trees but the calm. the calm you and the calm i.
i feel real lame when i have to take, touch your small, peaky hands and draw the open sky, field and le soleil, nu au soleil, flottant.
a embrassing-compulsive nible. you felt it.
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