Thursday, 26 July 2012

Where One Moment Ends

There's a smell of graveyards and weddings in the watery-green perfume coming from the flowers set on the white table cloth where a candle burns to bathe the walls of this great hall in an antique light. The guests are wrapped in fresh clothing: some wear extras, strange adornments that serve no purpose like cocktail parasols. They still wear the electrical smell of rain and a third of them are still at that age where they're not sure where moment ends and another begins.

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