Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

Bliss, from Dusk till Dawn

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Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats

T. S. Eliot (1888–1965), U.S.-born British poet and playwright.
Prufrock and Other Observations “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”.

At dusk, we met. At night, we drove in the sleepless street. At dawn, we retreat.

A bliss. In past tense.

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Rainy night never fails making me hopelessly nostalgic.

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Not the best shot of her. It’s out-of-focus and blurry.

Yet, it’s my favourite moment with her.

“Stop taking picture of me”

It’s actually a video.

*pinching me*

“Argh, the attack of killer woman!” In reference to Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (1978).

*mirthful amusement*

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Yup, it’s time to forget the past — sometimes in the near future.

Written by cthulhu

May 17, 2010 at 3:06 am

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