wama

23.08.06

The black water is still. A flat line. Blacker than you can see. Slick flat black gives way to a volcano. Perfect peak pointing west. Or east. Well it’s not the direction that matters. It’s the cloud hovering above resting on the steam slowly pushing up from the pursed lips of the mountain’s tip.

A lacy horizon wimpers and curbs the ghosts of city sky scrapers melting in the distance.

posted by la kara @ 19:34