[click image]There is an alley which my heart has stolen from the streets of my childhood, the journey of a form along the line of time, inseminating the line of time with the form, a form conscious of an image, coming back from a feast in a mirror. And it is in this way that someone dies and someone lives on. No fisherman shall ever find a pearl in a small brook which empties into a pool.
I know a sad little fairy who lives in an ocean, and ever so softly plays her heart into a magic flute, a sad little fairy who dies with one kiss each night and is reborn with one kiss each dawn.
13 May 2008
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