..when the mind ceases to think..

...some organized incoherence.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008


It's like sitting bare feet on wet grass with a glass of pinot noir after a thunderstorm where everything smells as fresh as it pretends to be. A light drizzle serves its purpose as a dinner guest that knows her table manners better than her kinship with the clouds.

But it's enough, for I'm still grateful.