When The Rain Comes…

The hourse of daytime diffuse into one, so if you don’t have any timekeeping devices handy, you’d never know what time it is. They day floats on the grey to dark grey medium, unmotivating, stagnant, and seemingly endless.
Minutes may go by but lifetimes pass through your head, lying on the bed of blissful dreams and broken hopes. Songs of otherwordly contstruct visit my premature dreamtime, yearning to be made into reality yet never passing into force (except in some special cases).
Thus the deep river runs calm, but will break upon any shore or stone harshly.

About barijoe

Failed Musician, Reformed Gadget Freak and Eating Extraordinaire.

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