Tears make a conversation between those of us and those of us. There is a gap called life. You are the prime then the number expands to precincts, cities, exactitude of love. No words gulp and slop over the rails of reason, not this brightened day. Trail autumn while Chris has words. Words are our distance and close, both in the net and fret. So the few few few chords and that enjoyment. We meet in the strong and weak words, chords, I love you. Love you love you, many times the instant.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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