Wednesday, 17 September 2008
what a sunday should be.
The empire of the evening has golden butterflies dissapearing between sunlight and shade of the aging oak; and smiles that never stop echoing, long after the people laying beneath her sturdy arms have gone home to deep beds and a warmth that starts in their chests and radiates out of their skin.
# posted by Hil : Wednesday, September 17, 2008
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