Friday, January 25, 2008

Testimo n i a l

I hear the voice of the rain dripping on the window; she puts two cigarettes in her mouth and smiles. Then I stare at her portrait, her look is lost somewhere, I hear the voice of the rain dripping on my window repeating and repeating, as if the time has stopped, and it has been nothing else in my ears except the voice of rain drops on my window