Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll
You dress yourself up in your very best, then let your chiselled features knock me out. Why do this to me on my final day?
Every bend in the road is a gentle inquiry of my thigh; I’ll be in the ditch if you offer another hill, that deep rolling over westwards, softening to its soft powdery browns, lightening to a gouache of greys. The wind has dropped. Tonight, every lake is stencilled, every inlet inlaid. Wormadale is glorious; Whiteness, Binnaness, Kalliness, every one a point of land so near, bidding me come, step across.
No, I will not disturb a thing. If I as much as breathe it will all shatter. Waas to Watsness is
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