Last night in Lost Hope, I found myself clinging to the tips of a moss crowned mountain with frost bitten fingers, multicoloured circus lights were lacing their way, across the diaphanous twilight sky, into a giant gossamer spider's web (they were jealous of the stars, you see). The air tasted of burning books and blood, the wind whispered death threats into my ear.
p.s. hello
luna, you write and imagine so beautifully.
ReplyDeletethis prose piece is both scary and hopeful.
remarkable - luvin' on your blog.