Down from my window
Thousands of lights, lives
Alone before sleep
Remembering nights alone in my apartment looking out over the city. Not an elegant view, but I y think Kerouac should’ve been comfortable.
Memories
poetry, prose, and photography
Down from my window
Thousands of lights, lives
Alone before sleep
Remembering nights alone in my apartment looking out over the city. Not an elegant view, but I y think Kerouac should’ve been comfortable.
Carl Setzer: Word Shaper 