They always suspect foul play, drugs, fights
like that’s the only way for a boy
to end up in a river.
wasn’t an accident at all, whatever they said.
but there are parts I don’t think you’d understand:
how we are all made up of salt and river sand
and water, water, water, water, water
but there are parts I don’t think you’d understand:
how we are all made up of salt and river sand
and water, water, water, water, water
Hypothesize me this:
if a boy goes fishing at night alone
is he more likely to catch a mermaid?
there’s just the world and I in it, the sky
runs through my fingers, water never lies
but it can make a nest inside your eyes
so nothing ever, ever hurts again.
runs through my fingers, water never lies
but it can make a nest inside your eyes
so nothing ever, ever hurts again.
Then, if I drew him a bridge
if I drew him a note over the fog bank,
a bag packed for running away,
and all things lost are here for you to find
here time is slow, deliberate and kind,
it doesn’t rush, or hurry, doesn’t mind –
eternity is just a trick of light.
here time is slow, deliberate and kind,
it doesn’t rush, or hurry, doesn’t mind –
eternity is just a trick of light.
a burrowing longing
that frets and pulls and tugs and looks –
is this better?
Photography by Julie Dell
Art directing and editing by Katrin Albert
Jewelry by Kira Koktysh New York
Flower Arrangements by Katrin Albert
Полностью история тут, утащено отсюда
Свечи, ловцы, украшения