archipelegiac
What do you see?
Red is a roundish man, alone in his 40s, the day-to-days of life clouding the future as he stops at red lights and tries to feel the textures of moments as they glow and skirt off his skin.
One day, he meets a girl, and this girl is nothing less than a drink of fresh sunshine as it pours in between the blinds past predawn; 7 AM and the morning dark roast is just about ready to slip into its tap shoes and tour along your veins.
And there's a moment, so suffused with color, cavernous, a song coursing in echoes along the edges of your senses, his senses, all senses -- and even hours later, a warmth resurfaces on his sleeve, half rolled up along his forearms, and flashes of her perfume create ideas like Miles Davis did.
Shift, his service dog, wags his tail softly and, right now, it's aflutter before it settles gently on the linoleum.
What do you see?
Red is a roundish man, alone in his 40s, the day-to-days of life clouding the future as he stops at red lights and tries to feel the textures of moments as they glow and skirt off his skin.
One day, he meets a girl, and this girl is nothing less than a drink of fresh sunshine as it pours in between the blinds past predawn; 7 AM and the morning dark roast is just about ready to slip into its tap shoes and tour along your veins.
And there's a moment, so suffused with color, cavernous, a song coursing in echoes along the edges of your senses, his senses, all senses -- and even hours later, a warmth resurfaces on his sleeve, half rolled up along his forearms, and flashes of her perfume create ideas like Miles Davis did.
Shift, his service dog, wags his tail softly and, right now, it's aflutter before it settles gently on the linoleum.