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Aug 17
red
neon
rain spattered
pavements teeming;
one thousand prismatic shades of meaning

graffiti-laden puddles splish, splosh, splash;
as midnight turns
to blue, and
dawn to
ash

‘I walked up, and I walked down, and I walked straight into a delicately dying sky, and finally the sequence of observed and observant things brought me, at my usual eating time, to a street so distant from my usual eating place that I decided to try a restaurant which stood on the fringe of the town. Night had fallen without sound or ceremony when I came out again.’
- Vladimir Nabokov, The Vane Sisters
annh
Written by
annh  F/Christchurch, New Zealand
(F/Christchurch, New Zealand)   
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