21. oktober 2010


So it's winter. Wet and cold. White or grey.
Fog and clouds. 
Grey lines above other grey lines,
white clouds on a white sky
and bell towers almost black against the white sky.
The steaming river, drops of water,
the smell of leaves in damp piles
the lukewarm smell of rotting leaves,
a vague smell of dogs, the cooing of pigeons.
The smell of muddy dogs and the smell of mud puddles.
The grey water of the puddles. The mist an anis green.
A wet smell and a white sky. Cold.

Frå Bayart av Pascalle Monnier

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