do they greet each other, through the gaps between those water molecules which bleach their voices white? in some mother tongue of their own, another whose meaning eludes me? or do they shake or nod their heads, without a need for words?
what do the ghosts of this city do, these muffled, early-morning hours? slip soundlessly out to walk through the fog that has been holding its breath, and waiting? do they greet each other, through the gaps between those water molecules which bleach their voices white? in some mother tongue of their own, another whose meaning […]
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