Roquentin

"we've fallen on days," leigh said. all hands, blurred

Motion. those praying hands. the tragic famine of

Words unsaid, hours misspent. it's all flash, after

All. the photographic momentary work of our senses

Viewing, tasting, living to deny the bittersweet

Desire of whispers written across days of days' lament

... the silence we offer, never to recompense the

Experiences we've borrowed.