Those fragile hours between closed heart closed fear nothing goes beneath thin skin stream goes behind my knee from up the tree watch me see you coming to me.
I've just wrote that oO Such images always peopled my dreams and fantasies, you know. The issue of the time also makes it magically mesmerizing. Virginia Woolf wrote something about these same hours of the day when everything looks like a picture forgotten in a drower, still bright, though.
Congretulations, VERY GOOD shot. It wirthed even the cold feet to be taken