"There are stories everywhere," he told the horses. "Everything has a story untold."
"That girl for instance," he said. "What girl you ask? That girl with the flowing gown of velvet pink. That girl with the sparkling anklet on her left ankle." He stopped talking and jumped over the small stream.
They walked on. Heavy breathing and deep panting from the three of them. The skies grew dim, the wind howled bringing a sharp piercing chill. He kept his eyes forward: on something just by the side of the stony path. Then he continued,
"That girl with the rosy cheeks and soft face.
"That girl trapped in the flower..."
(Inspired by shoepastryheart)
1 comment:
I've been analyzing this photo a long time... Luis doesn't own gloves, so that can't be him.
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