A WHISPER OF WIND, the stars flickering in familiar constellations, laid across a velvety red sky / a lonely green light blinks along with me. the ripples on the sand tell stories of a past, golden - lined memories of 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, framed and displayed. i glance up at the stars once more : a different past, much, much older than the transcient marks in the sand.













