Ataraxia - Aquarello |
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Aquarello
Ataraxia Your hands and my words trace circles, Lines, volutes, assonances, Fragrances of sonorous abstractions Atmospheric nuances, Tenuous impalpable motions of spinging chords; Cerulean, overseasIn floating constellations "We open the dance like unusual comedians or sylvestrian interpreters of a bizarre picture." |
