Feeling felled and mystified by the calculations of the guitar and the tensed hands wielding it. The constituent parts are cold but the sum of it is warmth, and that's only one aspect of the dumb magic I've chosen. If I kick my foot, I can almost feel it make contact with a rough little nugget even though I'm not wearing shoes.
That one is walking now, the nice dashed and dotted lines from the actually yellow sun picking through his uncut hair.
Father watches with dulled curiosity. They smoke now, again. I'm surprised. The pendulum swung back to smoking fathers.