Winter Love
it's in a week.
a whirl of badly written chinese, stumbling translations, notes that bring tears
a phone call that means nothing and shouldn't mean anything and yet i'm still trying to make something
out of stories not my own and situations in an alternate universe(again)
in a place where berry ladies hallucinate of shadow hands and a piano that goes backward
because it's too hard to go forward and the rain makes everything standstill.
still hoping for the stardust of tomorrow.
in such a place i want to find.
