(no subject)
the wind is barreling up the sides of the buildings, it gathers strength as it slides along the wet pavement of the streets and the dampness of the bricks. it reminds me of all the nights in the county, when the wind would get trapped in the branches of the trees, tossing them about. the wind always won, it wrenched itself free and continued on its journey. the sound is the same.
there's a certain peace that only comes from reconnecting with your roots. i need to get down there soon.
my windows are thrown open, letting in the light of the moon, the cold winter air and the chimes' song from across the alley.
the only thing missing is the sound of brass.
there's a certain peace that only comes from reconnecting with your roots. i need to get down there soon.
my windows are thrown open, letting in the light of the moon, the cold winter air and the chimes' song from across the alley.
the only thing missing is the sound of brass.