We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
slow dance
it's like being at the circus but slightly cleaner
everyone takes better pictures than i do but that's okay
i'm considering shipping my tweets here but probably nah
No comments:
Post a Comment