Long and cold winters and unoccupied idle minds,
staring at the stark fold of nothingness mangles
and depletes the boredom. Where do the hours
go without
Long and cold winters and unoccupied idle minds,
staring at the stark fold of nothingness mangles
and depletes the boredom. Where do the hours
go without
Herding Cretan milk goats and chanting Greek verses to poly gods, writers ascribe to the pastoral hymns of sorrow where time’s the thief...