Echoes in the Porcelain
The rain, as it always did, smelled of something faintly metallic and
Modern Love
Salt & Static
The rain in Seattle always tasted of regret, a metallic tang clinging
Salt & Shadow
The salt spray tasted of forgotten promises. He’d found me amidst
Salt & Ghosts
The sand still held the heat of yesterday’s sun. It clung
Salt & Echoes
The sand still held the ghost of his touch, a warmth that
Salt & Silence
The sand still held his scent. Not the sharp, immediate tang of
Salt & Echoes
The rain in the city always smelled of regret, a metallic tang
Indigo Echoes
The rain fell in fractured diamonds against the windowpane, a silver weeping
The Amber Bloom
He found me amidst the rain-slicked chrome and neon ghosts of Shibuya.
Echoes in Beige
The rain hadn’t quite finished its business, leaving a slick sheen
The Weight of Lilacs
The rain always smelled like possibility in this city. Not dramatic, sweeping
Emerald Echoes
The rain in New York always tastes like regret, doesn’t it?
