marginalia
It's my last night at home. I feel as if my light is the only one on this side of the river Maas. The waters are black and there is no moon. I love my family. My heart aches.
That not-new, un-old train: I don't feel much like a conductor, sometimes the passenger with his back to the onlooker. His thoughts are within the bright window and unknown.
1 Comments:
Last night until...?
Post a Comment
<< Home