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“Outside, it is so quiet. It is the end of the last November, and everything is turning so slowly that time begins to run backward; some words fail in their attempt to breathe. Things break easily when time finally comes to a stop; all the spaces in between, inside this grey glass, thawing thoughts distort — the view grows faint at night.” — Laura Chouette
Outside, it is so quiet.
It is the end of the last November,
and everything is turning so slowly
that time begins to run backward;
some words fail
in their attempt to breathe.
Things break easily
when time finally comes to a stop;
all the spaces in between,
inside this grey glass,
thawing thoughts distort —
the view grows faint at night.