It is July 200 B.C.It is the height of tailoring.
It is the sheer height.
It is July 1945.My skin has yet to be ravaged by sun and sea.
An invisible architecture of wrought mist.
You can look now.
No really.
Look.
It is July 1066.The ceiling is in the basement.
It is July 2001And I'm only going to ask you once, Ma'am,
Stop making so much sense.
2 comments:
So. We've got a lot of catching up to do.
Oh, I've got time.
The 4HJ pic is the bomb. My comrades!
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