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Pressed Flowers

Bronwen Tate

I wonder if he is as preso as he seems during the shifting and moving of mouths and little shivers. We ate chestnuts in the evening. Je ne sais pas si c’est un bien qu’il me suffit. Storm that sometimes catches up. And così the year. I’m waiting for retrospect as usual. Rimpiango. Marea. Wore eyeliner to resign myself to sitting in front of a computer. La luce ti da fastidio? No, no, Io fra un momento dormo. He has been persuaded by a program on Waterloo.

Bronwen Tate

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