Sunday, March 18, 2012

Goodnight, sun


From a silver rooftop. Chinaco tequila, fresh lemon juice, maple syrup. All shook up. A sort kinda very good Margartia (-ish).


A man and his... What am I saying? Two men.


And three jets, heading south. I wonder who was on them? Were they having a drink, too? Sleeping? Eating? Looking down to see what they could see: the edges of this great city on the edge of the continent, spread around all this water? An ant palace from 38,000 feet.
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