Archives du mot-clé dust

Sometimes…

Essaouira, Morocco, December 2019, canon, Sylvie GE
Sometimes it would be three o'clock

and we would stop somewhere

mainly a windowless cafe

and the old carpet that smells like a dog

dust would fill the air

and even tea would be bad

then we would hit the road again

pedaling in the wind

a taste of blood in the mouth

mosquitoes on the teeth

memories would finally be tired

and we could go to bed