rovaille-blog reblogged
Shirazu Ginshi blowing out the last smoke, thinking of his motorcycle, exhaust emissions from body, surging swells, and then leaves like clouds.
This night did not end, or is still far away from ending. The embers doesn’t put out, makes fingertips warm, the wind makes his hair cold, the empty stomach at puberty welling and twisting, to make unnecessary pressure of final, but he already sleepy.
