Through this evenings tide of faces
unrecognized, amid hurrying black shoes, furled umbrellas, the crowd
descending like a single organism into the stations airless
heart, comes Shinya Yamazaki, his notebook clasped beneath his arm
like the egg case of some modest but moderately successful marine
species.
William Gibson, All Tomorrows Parties
they |
clean |
chocolate |
to |
smile |
tomorrow |
when |
money |
cant |
please |
him |
and |
I |
kiss |
the |
cold |
how |
beautiful |
we |
live |
today |
I'm |
mostly |
addicted |
by |
extra |
insomnia |
but |
you |
tremble |
before |
last |
instant |
bitter |
delight |
follow |
forever |
the |
moon |
's |
bright |
snowflake |
song |
an |
d |
whisper |
of |
star |
y |
dark |
river |
s |
in |
spring |
. |
share |
together |
the |
sun |
's |
love |
ly |
morning |
smile |
and |
dream |
beneath |
blossoming |
summer |
silence |
. |
wander |
through |
the |
evening |
's |
soft |
feather |
ed |
storm |
an |
d |
listen |
around |
ancient |
autumn |
breeze |
s |
embrace |
inside |
the |
rain |
s |
long |
laugh |
ing |
shadow |
and |
seek |
my |
heart |
across |
warm |
winter |
ocean |
s |
|