Silken threads of light. Glistening harps, celestes and quaint musiqual chests. Up on the street oil paint blotches and dabs and daubs of colour await you in the blurred rainy black taxi street, grey, brown foggy - a blur of young and old voices -
Travelling rambling nomadic mosaic mesquito -
Mindless buzzing dream of an old Turkey-Buzzard a chewing and a chawing on the carcass of an old old buffalo -
- and in the late Summer of '09, the Antoinette and the Longhorn raced along the Cornish Cliffs, wingtips almost touching - glinting, dragonflies in the sun -
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