I can see the Iles clearly from the purple table I am sitting at. Something is stuck. Violet can not be here if there is sugar and stress. Ibra tried valiantly to draw it out from my blood to the surface of my skin. It pricked, itched then all was calm. It is close, rasping. To reach it I must succumb. The wind has subsided.
www.colourmining.co.uk 