next to nothing there wasn’t much more to say. we silently suffered though a distant dinner of fish and folly, fumbling through the arrid ache of arduous arbitration.
merrily mocking the captivating candles created a queer quiet between the fork of fortune and a spoonless soup of suggestion.
clutching the amber after dinner cognac, the fumes of fire recalled to mind a good night’s sleep in contaminated comfort makes all the difference in early morning merriment makeup we play with perfection.
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ThomG’s 3 word wednesday, this week’s three: suffer, ache, difference
photo: normann copenhagen, flickr