My cat follows me to my bedroom and sits on the boundary of the threshold, unwavering, not entering, but not turning back. He stares at me. It is dark and his silhouette and eyes are all I see, but they communicate his meaning. The end is near.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
It's What Hits At Midnight
There is music here.
My cat follows me to my bedroom and sits on the boundary of the threshold, unwavering, not entering, but not turning back. He stares at me. It is dark and his silhouette and eyes are all I see, but they communicate his meaning. The end is near.
My cat follows me to my bedroom and sits on the boundary of the threshold, unwavering, not entering, but not turning back. He stares at me. It is dark and his silhouette and eyes are all I see, but they communicate his meaning. The end is near.
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