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That Night.

July 8, 2020


The night smells of ordinary life,
of youth and alcohol and one night
love.  Of nights spent boiling
cold in run down backyards as you pass
a half empty wine bottle.  Everyone wearing
everyone else’s jumpers.  With the
arm of a boy around you.
You can’t remember his name.
The night smells of intimacy,
an intimacy outside ourselves,
of plain existence within a universe
where the odds weren’t in our favour:
the night smells of an intoxicant,
where great heights were gained grounded and
your potential insignificance actualised,
turning perspective thoughts to reality.
Apparently alcohol is a drug.


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  • July 8, 2020 - 11:57am (Now Viewing)

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  • Wicked!

    Really gorgeous piece!

    4 months ago
  • rainandsonder

    i love this?? "The night smells of intimacy,/an intimacy outside ourselves,/of plain existence within a universe/where the odds weren’t in our favour"

    4 months ago
  • outoftheblue

    um this is STUNNINGGG
    (welcome to wtw btw!)

    5 months ago