At this distanceyou’re a mirage, a glossy imagefixed in the postureof the last time I saw you.Turn you over, there’s a placefor the address. Wish you werehere.
Margaret Atwood
At this distanceyou’re a mirage, a glossy imagefixed in the postureof the last time I saw you.Turn you over, there’s a placefor the address. Wish you werehere.