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lack
The other campers all went home on Sunday morning. I stayed on with my mother, in our suddenly solitary caravan. The guitars were gone, the radios were gone, the tapestry of voices had unravelled, and all that was left was wind blowing through the sea grass and rabbits reclaiming their territory. I felt as fragile and empty as a blown eggshell.
The other campers all went home on Sunday morning. I stayed on with my mother, in our suddenly solitary caravan. The guitars were gone, the radios were gone, the tapestry of voices had unravelled, and all that was left was wind blowing through the sea grass and rabbits reclaiming their territory. I felt as fragile and empty as a blown eggshell.
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Stop Whispering (bluedevi) wrote,
@ 2003-10-01 03:00:00
Somewhere sunny I hope.
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