Monday, February 1, 2010

The pee of a frog is ice-cold. I was so surprised that I opened my hands and let it hop away. Thus I stood there, deeply moved, above me the wind passing through the treetops, and my hand cold from the pee of a frog.

We begin again. We never give up.

1 comment:

yogacephalus said...

Lars Gustafsson, "Death of a Beekeeper"