Saturday, August 21, 2010

What Gets Rid Of Internal He

Lehavim

Suburbs torn yellow shade under the palms dry, 45 ° c outside, warm air surrounds the members, the wet fringe of sweat, paralyze movement.
The landscape around is shrinking. Trees around awkwardly asphyxiated a picnic area abandoned more than a dead city. The trees disappear along the highway that it will plunge into the wilderness where only the streetlights resist.
Silence is a deafening din. Impossible to know if people are holed up in their air-conditioned lounge or simply deserted the subdivision mummified.
Even more barking dogs when I pass.
The degrees we hide behind closed shutters, it saves every move until evening, until a semblance of air slowly comes to raise us.

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