May 2008
1 post
2 tags
the banjo plays at sunset.
what do you do when you’re on the inside looking out, and all you wish is that you were out there… not trapped behind these glass sheets, with muted noises and warm seats. there’s something about talking behind closed doors when the time is running out. the machines are shutting down and soon they’ll kick us out. outside. where we breathe in dirty air and we feel the weight...