Saturday writing not always should be satisfying to be defined as productive.
There are reflections of reflections in early winter puddles, yet not a single word been ever reflected!
Today's silent acceptance of poetry will be yesterdays's tomorrow.
veden fragmentteja, oceani di pietre
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За окном парень в большего, чем размах крыльев собственных, размера свитере пытается расколотить яичную скорлупу. "Будет ли хлеб сегодн...
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..but the Man who slept too long faces West in Lotus. Liberté, égalité, frat ern ité among the trees in winter. A bag of clothes instead of...
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