The words that are thought but never shared between lovers
that's where I want to set my tent.
The emptiness of a piece of manuscript before a composer scribes their first motif
the rocky landscape before the cambrian explosion
the fabric that makes the dress that lifts the spirit of some lonely girl on a grey day
the clay between the sculptor's fingers
that's where I want to place my luggage down
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
The words that are thought but never shared between lovers
that's where I want to set my tent.
The emptiness of a piece of manuscript before a composer scribes their first motif
the rocky landscape before the cambrian explosion
the fabric that makes the dress that lifts the spirit of some lonely girl on a grey day
the clay between the sculptor's fingers
that's where I want to place my luggage down
