Ever this tall pache wood floors could smash into pieces when at times particles colide behind
close doors?. Tear apart double glazed and bring attention to what was pristine, shots staying in photo.
Time everwhere in voids anywhere, across the wall that wanted history preserved, relentlessly on neutral mortgaged memories?.
Then reality decided this is one question, writer-lyricist-, those erratic masters,
coping across multiple incidentals until the last render fragment.