(no subject)
barley wine and nora jones.
the house is empty. open windows without screens and bugs following paths beat by little wings. they come and go, as if driven by a methodical process; in and out they go, some stopping to feed from my blood, others wandering aimlessly along walls, floors and ceilings, still others drawn by the glow of a dimly lit lamp. a slight breeze occasionally lifts the curtains away from their listless hang, giving life to a house as if guided by an unseen hand.
i like this house. the warm wood floors, and soft evening colors. nora's voice fills the living space with such warmth that i can close my eyes and feel her presence next to me. if you can't see, she's sitting across the room - singing to me.
j and his girl just came home from dinner. sitting in the next room, they remind me of a painting. no words, little movement as their eyes are cast out into an infinite moment...
this place is so fucking moody. it fits me well...
for the time being.
the house is empty. open windows without screens and bugs following paths beat by little wings. they come and go, as if driven by a methodical process; in and out they go, some stopping to feed from my blood, others wandering aimlessly along walls, floors and ceilings, still others drawn by the glow of a dimly lit lamp. a slight breeze occasionally lifts the curtains away from their listless hang, giving life to a house as if guided by an unseen hand.
i like this house. the warm wood floors, and soft evening colors. nora's voice fills the living space with such warmth that i can close my eyes and feel her presence next to me. if you can't see, she's sitting across the room - singing to me.
j and his girl just came home from dinner. sitting in the next room, they remind me of a painting. no words, little movement as their eyes are cast out into an infinite moment...
this place is so fucking moody. it fits me well...
for the time being.