Sunday, September 19, 2010

let fall the flowers from your hair. . .

Days like these lend themselves to daydreaming. . .

The afternoon sun says farewell. The gentle resistance of flowers that come loose in your hand. Their faces trailing in water, a garland in your hair as you float, as motionless as the water breathing around you.

The whole world is drowsy and where there was time before, now there is none. Any passage is measured only by quiet sighs, by the orderly ants rushing at crumbs. Everything in sight is golden whether your eyes are open or closed.

The afternoon is an embrace.


'And I took you by the sleeve // no other reason than to be your leading man.'

A langour is stealing over the land. 

Images from Pop Autumn/Winter 2009; Central Coast Pictures; Picnic At Hanging Rock; Google Images; the Lula edited by Kirsten Dunst.

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