The structure is old, weather beaten, it’s all gray and blackish, must have had paint on it once and looked livable perhaps.
Once a high flying bright kite, now hangs entangled in the veins of this old man. Torn and the colour has given away to dust and harsh sunrays.
One stands still, other flutters tirelessly, wonder who is clinging to whom.
Delicately bonded, a contrast of colour and character, a shade of old and dying, one firm the other flying, yet together in the grime…
Sunday, November 11, 2007
A complete Nothing
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1 comment:
it's funny, the magic of words; it's funny the numerous ways of interpreting them; and it's amazing when presented them correctly, any or all of these interpretations will arise that same emotion in you.. am ur big fan! oh u know that :)
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