Conversation November 28, 2014 3:55:01 PM – 3:57:31 PM

It was not the forests I came from. Your eyes and the sound of rain from the busy roof.

When I wake up and see you open your eyes. The words, small tops of foam. I sailed between your lips and kissed the meteorites glittering down through the atmosphere. Figs on the ground. To transform this room into another.

We were still, we were still quivering, quivering down to the smallest details.