Maker
Each alone has extended the forefinger towards sky after standing on respective time index. Ready. Now I'll start my play. In a thin packet ancient wavelets, much smaller yes-no language and I'm moving my machinefinger while showing ether-magic with your lives
Would I have to stop? Where?
Interval
Heads trying to lean over the shoulder indicates ebony-interval. The midnight. A cigar in her yellow lips is bracing me on the sleeping street below an egglight and the architect fogs are building perfect shivering dermato jacket. I can clearly see with the transition phase light that a nickname is dissimilating within the full pitch smokecube while welcoming me.
(C) 2002 Abhijit Mitra
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