Across the River and into the Trees

I stand, in the midst of a thousand crossing souls, in between four red bricked whitewashed walls. In that moment I glance up, watch the hands on the grand horloge ticking away. Which moves faster – the slim long metal hand or the crossing steps of the crowd? The bright chatter that echoes off the same four whitewashed walls, floats up to the vaulted ceiling and descends like a blanket over the sharp pluck of a guitar string.

I blink, and turn to go.

Across the River and into the Trees

4 thoughts on “Across the River and into the Trees

  1. jh says:

    you din get ‘horloge’? hm i cant rem if you know the language. do u?

    sorry i tend to mix them up randomly in my head at times. it grows on me. =)

  2. firenhawk says:

    so it’s a french word, not a mispelling… haha. thought you meant horologe. I did elementary Deutsch.

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