Grey
I imagine the air vent above me, rather than loudly regurgitating icy germ-filled air, is sucking energy and happiness, the last drops, from my very core.
I imagine the air vent above me, rather than loudly regurgitating icy germ-filled air, is sucking energy and happiness, the last drops, from my very core.
This balloon has been caught in a tree outside Central station Devonshire St exit for the last two weeks. It’s the only blue in the sky lately.
Bluing fog, by goznaraw
Winter dreaming.
All rights reserved.