THIRTYARDS
Bass Fishing. At the pace of the saltwater flyfishing coast. Wexford, Ireland – est 2003.
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Category: Hearing
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The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden…
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I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the riverbed, – M.Oliver
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THIRTYARDS 