goldenlangur Posted July 30, 2010 Share Posted July 30, 2010 Tepid tea, strains of conversation. He sprays the air with his fingers, punctuates opinions. I half-listen, watch the curdled-milk sky. Where I may soon be going: voices ... echoes ... silence. Who will he blame? Quote goldenlangur Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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