Topsy-Turvy Creatures

  • Posted on 25th February 2016,
  • written by
Topsy-Turvy Creatures

Sometimes your evening falls down the stairway. It is a stone stairway so the following morning is a sad mess of eggshell shrapnel. This situation births a careful afternoon of reserved dancing, of passing time in very calculated sips. But this formal cavalcade soon loses itself, its edges growing fuzzy, its center whirling out of place. Sometimes your evening falls down a stone stairway.