picosgemeos: (Montanhas)

A song at my finger tips, sun warming this space, shadows flying down the floor (and some smash into the glass, and break their necks), following the green up the hill, a form stretched out, the glass rattles with the wind.

Sitting in the guesthouse's reception after serving breakfast and clearing out tables. Sunny sunday, no sign of winter.

A drilling sound in my head like a truck going down our dirt road.
picosgemeos: (Montanhas)
A tiny creature lying in the sun, eyes closed, as shadows flicker around it and the sound of a song from the 80s reaches me. Cooler indoors than outdoors.

Sitting in the guesthouse’s reception, doing admin and looking at Marcelinho lie in the sun while my iTunes runs shuffle on Clan of Xymox. Nearly lunch time.

Must ask the Norwegian couple during lunch if they’d like to hang out with us in the living room at night.
picosgemeos: (Montanhas)
The beats of a machine I touch overclouding the chirping outdoors, a cool interior lit by sunshine against red walls, green forms leading the eyes up to the blue sky.

Sitting in the guesthouse's reception, drinking coffee with milk, listening to iTunes on shuffle (M83), unshowered, early Saturday morning.

If I don't uncross my legs, I'll make my lower back problems worse.

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Ollie

September 2017

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