emmajane16.1775
From another point
The bonfire sets the field in the evening,
the antlers of an enraged deer.
The whole valley is stretched out. By its loins,
wind the wind.
The air crystallizes under the smoke.
Sad yellow cat eye.
I in my eyes, walk through the branches.
The branches stroll along the river.
My essentials arrive.
They are choruses of choruses.
Between the reeds and the low afternoon,
How strange that he calls me Federico!
Federico Garcia Lorca
Exhalt www.flickr.com/groups/exhalt/pool/, Caligula (54, 50, 29) - Adulto
From another point
The bonfire sets the field in the evening,
the antlers of an enraged deer.
The whole valley is stretched out. By its loins,
wind the wind.
The air crystallizes under the smoke.
Sad yellow cat eye.
I in my eyes, walk through the branches.
The branches stroll along the river.
My essentials arrive.
They are choruses of choruses.
Between the reeds and the low afternoon,
How strange that he calls me Federico!
Federico Garcia Lorca
Exhalt www.flickr.com/groups/exhalt/pool/, Caligula (54, 50, 29) - Adulto