Sketches in Hot Pink Ink

(WHERE DID THE FUCKING TABS GO, WORDPRESS?)

It’s ALWAYS  about WORDPRESS. CAN’T resist hogging the stage)

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SETTING

LATE AT NIGHT.

Chilly, wintry and very damp.

Trees are furious tonight.

Rustling like crazy.

Time starts to feel different.
It becomes random suddenly.

But you are centered and fixed, untouched by what passes before you, snippets of conversations between lovers and clandestine affairs from the past.

Very old ones.

Very old.

As old as old is

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