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Sandstorm Meet me by the bits of dust, Where the whispering wind cuts And the rocks are small but mighty. Explain to me This desert I am in, The sunny views of the never-showing end. The funny few will make it through The sandstorm. Damon Durham. Damon at 5:05 da tarde
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outras praias
where words come together as waves, blue and beautiful, dying in the whiteness, but repeating themselves like music notes, from sunrise to sunset to sunrise again. um livro: «Saudades de Nova Iorque», de Pedro Paixão. um filme: «Memento». um disco: «King of limbs», Radiohead. |