Bundled up, and stomping through arctic white snow, listening to the Love Below. I look out on the Maid of the Mist, the air surrounds my cold cheeks, numbs them like an icy kiss.
Who could truly be so dumb, brave those falls in a barrel run? Ripleyβs has me unnerved believe it or not, the same nervous rush I feel, before the ***** from a booster shot.
Then after awhile, we are off to dine in neon towers, where we spend hours, soaking in the bath of a night-time sky. The glint of flush colors reflecting against buildings.
The sounds of water raging amidst mouthfuls of moonlight, it looks like the worldβs been staged. But back to rest in a spiral hotel, itβs been a lively day; Where we pull up the covers, and thatβs where we will remain.