* * * * *

This is for (pre) mid-autumn moon rise, and for rain in general, and for myself being spellbound.

Someone said when you can’t sleep, just keep awake and sleep will come, but shoud I?

and well, the air is filled with silvery words that go swirling upwards.

Too young, reminds me of an old song from my youth.

Our strings are not long enough to reach.

But strings can vibrate the air.

The air can deliver that.

That is the bridge.

And it burnt.

It falls.

– – – – – –

Julio Marcel Joyce (1927)