April snow. / God is waiting in the garden. / Slow as a blush,
snow shifts and settles on God. / On God’s bouquet. / The trees are white nerve nets.
“In a thousand years time this day will have existed for a thousand years to the day. And the ignorance of the whole world about what they’ve said today will have a date too.”
Marguerite Duras
INSTAGRAM
BANDCAMP
YOUTUBE