The wind lifts the washing line, wooden pegs tap, a shirt fills like a sail then settles. I stand and wait for the quiet between gusts, listening for something else to declare itself, and only the neighbour’s laugh wanders over.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
The wind lifts the washing line, wooden pegs tap, a shirt fills like a sail then settles. I stand and wait for the quiet between gusts, listening for something else to declare itself, and only the neighbour’s laugh wanders over.