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##£¤§*^~:, sound... and sure enough, between the ,:~^*§¤£##
¤§§§§*^~:, grains there are calls from other ,:~^*§§§§¤
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##£¤§*^~:, but staying out of reach... telling me ,:~^*§¤£##
##£¤§*^~:, that something is happening, perfuming ,:~^*§¤£##
£¤*~:,,,,, me with someone elses excitement ,,,,,:~*¤£
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###£¤§^~:, in this metaphorical sand, breathing ,:~^§¤£###
#££¤§*^~:, it, the veil is next to breached... i ,:~^*§¤££#
##£¤§*^~:, hear flutes, sines, repeating themes ,:~^*§¤£##
###£§*^~:, like were they calls from rubbery ,:~^*§£###
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##£¤§*^~:, but like a mirage, constantly ,:~^*§¤£##
##£¤§*^~:, evaporating and reforming. ,:~^*§¤£##
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