Monday, March 9, 2009
In Lungs Of The Village
Can't stop the smirking over the peasant view, inside, outside, in sights and the external sightings. I stare at my definition of peace and tranquility and he roars back like a kitten with his play-roaches.
Over wet days, and wet nights, there goes some of the awe moments, now past like that blink of our eyes.
I love the way it fitted in, the way he dwells along.