At the postbox, I smooth a stamp; the envelope carries a small heat from my hand. A cyclist threads the quiet road; leaves lift, confer, settle. The slot takes the words without opinion. Walking back, I feel lighter by an ounce.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
At the postbox, I smooth a stamp; the envelope carries a small heat from my hand. A cyclist threads the quiet road; leaves lift, confer, settle. The slot takes the words without opinion. Walking back, I feel lighter by an ounce.