
Our little ship with paper sail
Sets out upon the sea –
A narrow nutshell for the boards
Holds us both in state;
And with brave splinter for a mast
’T will weather any gale.
by Nabokov
a love-song, a love-song.
it was the distance…
::
ego hoc feci mm–mmviii
© 2000–8 M.F.C.