we walk the road to Jericho.
the wind is rubbing against the hoarse grain sea, blond and scratching petulant at the rudeness of the morning.
you are talking animatedly with the murmur, but i am listening to the chubby sparrows speaking Greek amidst the dust, the rules of their game incoherent and boisterous…
— Sep 27, 2024 01:44AM
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