On summer and the waking hours

mornings awake i found myself writing letters in the air,¬†under my breath telling my secrets to the ghosts from last year.waiting for sunlight i’d pass the missing hours,pointing to the ceiling and with my fingerdrawing skylines and inescapable towers. this time last year I was sleeping in Kusadasi,and the year before that it was Venice.Back… Continue reading On summer and the waking hours