We sat with these songs-Spanish- and he translated them over tables skewed wine and the rest-with cigarettes in filled cups but still we were listening to the plucks of the guitar that kept on strucking strong and we didn't BOP- but rather moved inside and we all so DIED and swooned in its beauty and secretly we would live this coveted life- this life free of regard and things trivial for the world we did not understand filled us with hope- WITH HOPE.
RED
HILL
Enjoy the flight
15 years ago
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