at night, when trams hurrying on their way make everything rattle at feet, and the lovely tram bells fill the air, when it's really dark, the shop signs seem brighter. The convenience store looks warmer than it really is. You step in, the black and white checkered floor tiles give the small room the sense of infinite spaceciousness...
in the afternoon, in a sunlit spot, and the sun strikes his eyes just right, his eyes are beyond green beyond forest beyond emerald.
morning, when the wind is still and the air is warm, on a bench by the river, the world quietly idles by. fingers touch and lips touch and heart explodes as tongue shivers.
in the dark, there is still that little speck of hope like those little grains of dirt that get illuminated when a shaft of light breaks through the gap in the curtains, short lived but present nonetheless.