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10 thoughts on “ Place Of Forgetting - Desolate Horizon - Untitled ”

forgetting that even the clouds cannot measure. I hoard the day’s few treasures and bring them out when. day-light dips behind the city’s far terraces. I like the wild-eyed mask on some quiet awning, the lusty grape, the. fever in the eyes of old, diffident men who walk in those. burning mornings where cars insult stillness and.