colloqueal

The milky sun had set and we settled down into the shallow pits we had carved in the biting ash that
covered
everything.

Another day spent walking, hungry.
Long and pale shadows stroked out in harsh curves under the scorched limbs of various types of tree:�willow, oak.

Hushed and hunched, scrambling from hiding space to hiding space.
Years pass. We grow closer and distant.

Finally, out into a lush Scandanavian meadow, sheep sheep, dandelions,
and youapos;re there with braids in your hair, smiling, waving a baby hand,
I canapos;t believe it, itapos;s not real I say.
Whatapos;s real you say.
colloqueal, colloque st malo, colloque sentimental, colloque 2005, colloque.