Sleepless night. Old friends. Old times. Chit chat. 28. Bitching. Coffee at 0500. Blog at 0730.
The hours come falling down. And the days are candle wicks.
The rain. The wind.
To and fro. Our leaflet dreams under a crazy sunrise.
And in the middle of all that commotion.
The grain of sand.
That blows inside me. Outside.