outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


07.10.06, monday evening

Not one bee orchid; it isn't time yet. At the top of the mountain, clouds hovered in layers, each one different than its neighbor. A great tiger-striped one that went on for miles. Fluffy white kittens, swept away by an impatient gale. Ominous boiling ones, composed of many greys, all the possibilities of rain. I could haved looked at those clouds for hours.






<<

hosted by DiaryLand.com

free
web stats