My windows breathe within those elegant reservoirs of a great fog who make these signs far above the time of any childhood clothed with my thoughts behind the bars of an automatic yesterday which are not mine.
Random syllables of sanity from my subterranean barometric life
My windows breathe within those elegant reservoirs of a great fog who make these signs far above the time of any childhood clothed with my thoughts behind the bars of an automatic yesterday which are not mine.