My study table is occupied for various other reason, which means I'm effectively out of drawing business this pm.
No skin off my nose, because I've books that need to be made love to.
I haven't started reading this book yet, and I'm already attached to it through invisible strings.
A metaphorical harp to my heart, so to say. Each page, a sonorous twang of nostalgic chords.
I love how this book smells.
That my soul forensics have a perfect match for fingerprints found on each page of this book.
That it's had a pair of almond eyes hovering on them..that it's been held by digits so warm—one'd gleefully combust under their touch.
A bodiless exchange of esoteric secret atoms.
Asomatous mathematical equation that only those disposed to finding wormholes in torn fabrics of space and time would solve and understand..of how physical objects assume intangible qualities, capable of broadcasting unfathomable signals of passion to stir melancholy and fervor.
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