[icon]http://forumupload.ru/uploads/0019/e7/0f/2/612660.jpg[/icon][nick]Sybil Reisz[/nick][status]i have friends in holy places[/status][fandom]Transistor[/fandom][char]Сибил Райз[/char][lz]We were miserable, we used no more than a hundredth part of the gift we received for our long journey.[/lz]
Believers fall on their bellies, they suppose it is a monstrance that shines, but those are knuckles, sharp knuckles shine that way, my friends. He cuts the glowing, yellow buildings in two, breaks the walls into motley halves; pensive, he looks at the honey seeping from those huge honeycombs: throbs of pianos, children's cries, the thud of a head banging against the floor. This is the only landscape able to make him feel. |