8pm and on. Shores of other rivers. New places, familiar voices, the old skies above old hills. Crossing paths, then and now, distant yet close all the time. And some stories we share, changing and reshaping with the years.
8pm and on. Shores of other rivers. New places, familiar voices, the old skies above old hills. Crossing paths, then and now, distant yet close all the time. And some stories we share, changing and reshaping with the years.
I like how we share stories with old friends which change, reshape and evolve with the passing of time. Like a wine in a barrow. Unfortunately some occasionally get oxidized.
