WB1000(TL320) 0.15s l F7.2 l ISO 80 l 7.7mm
Fairish moisture evaporating from my breath is evenly dotted in the mood. Two sides of path are alikely stucked on steps I set to. Solicitously, humidity makes collapse the lastest viscosity of soil, inspires him with another sense of life. Leaned back in the clouds that have lost their regular shapes since last summer, I suddenly felt so young taking to heart all those timeless sensations arousing stale reflexes: love, ignorance, sympathetic feeling, protective instinct and a sense of shame. Oh, do the roads continue beyond the town up into the hills ?
S e n s a t i o n
On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass:
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.
I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing:
But endless love will mount in my soul;
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,
Through the countryside – as happy as if I were with a woman.
– March 1870, Arthur Rimbaud