Monday, 14 May 2018

F (May)

The letter for fog is a lamppost in the dark, lively O of haloed light, that glimmers somewhat alike to O on wet ground below. The letter for Friday isn’t the same as Monday, as he descends again at five towards a world not found in the book he’s reading on fourteenth-century mystics. The letter for fire persists in their writing, shaken to life in the grate at Prime, daily reminder, cold as may be, love will awaken and breathe again. The letter for frankincense vies with that for Fairfield as he looks up from reading on his early train.  

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