Think of it as..

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The Muses' Tango.


A hot afternoon in August.

You're sitting in the garden, drinking tea and trying very hard to escape the heat.

The sound of the ocean below.

Nothing is working to cool you.

Then in they walk.

The smell of skin fresh from the shower.

The sound off their tongue, sweet.

You stretch out on the hammock and listen to the sound of their voice.

Not a drone.

No.

The breeze they form as their words rise and fall cools you.

Their words are soft and cool against your skin.



"Once a long time ago..."




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