Rendezvous
16 March 06 : 03.00 PM
It sounds like this sometimes. Lounge piano, fingers gliding across the keys like precious things and poised like the statue with cracks down her neck. Dissonance clasping temples like the lack of blood, the colors of antique and ash. Sometimes, this is what it sounds like.
Diaphanous, he says, because one could never hold you.