Our summer- our youth, when and how did it become a wintry, bedraggled and dying vine, clinging in solitude on the edge of grey forests? Where are the Monroes, the Cary Grants, the Hepburns, the tomorrows? All gone, all gone to that deeply-remembered bone-palace in the open sky.
(25/7/2011)
(25/7/2011)
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