Afterwards I spent hours reading. Parts of your dreams fell out between your lips. It doesn’t matter. By the hesitant shore we walked through mountains of razor shells and looked out towards the slowness of the sea.

How long did you drift in the wind? A shy room, an intimate room. Everything can shift shape, can change, can transform. It is the wind blowing tunes through the rushes. Glass millions of years old in the luminous desert.