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.:Saturday, November 05, 2005:.
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And Now The Storm Is Inside.

He holds himself in the manner of a man unsure of his body and what it can do, under preassure.
It's autumn. She holds an umbrella, more as a disctraction than some vague form of protection.
He sits without moving until she fires bubbles, images and kusjes.
He falls as death comes at him on a sleepless night.
He sees himself in her, lying down in wet clothes, cold and steaming, waiting for hot-chocolate, drained of poetry...

at the end of another season.










Now Playing: Sacrifice (Elton John)- Rebel Rebel (David Bowie)- Best served with: Caffé Latte or Hot fudge.
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.:Lo wrote this at: 5:20 PM:.
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