A music comes from another world. Rooms very slow. It is carried by the hands of silk. Vibra widening the notes like a true carillon. It is an old music such as roundtables, lost in the woods as the horse and the lady imprisoned in stone.
seems to smell good. It is echoed in a chapel of distances from a scholarly book on the cover of ruby \u200b\u200bred damask. From a different world arpeggios up to get the wrists. Until entrarti in the river of blood and saliva. Up to flow in tears and eyelashes sway of maids and little jars of clay to be dried in the sun. Drop by drop rain falls as uncertain in the air carved in sapphire. Search vibrations and stop the tide wave spread in gardens closed to the panting of the deities among pasture roses and freesias buds rhapsodies. You
pace between courses of dry leaves, of rotting leaves in closed drawers loneliness.
and dense cups of women in the first bloom of bodices loose hair pulled like strings dulcimer on the street corner in the backyards of ice and aluminum.
