Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

September 06, 2007

the orange sun reminds me

A burlap covered crate of potatoes; the musculature of an Arabian horse; the taste of well water in the spring time; a willow basket of wool and spindle; the ocean steel-blue blood-orange and white; the sweetness of meadow grass; the perfume of stone; the ocean blue of boiled anise sweets; the frost on the lichen on the north of a birch, against which we made love.

Posted by Delire at September 6, 2007 04:32 PM
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