You will hear it waking to the roar of a ceiling fan,
in the rustling of dry palm leaves, in pebbles pouring
from a lorry onto the dusty street. The lips of the warm
wind, trapped between scaffolding and terrace, will
You will hear it waking to the roar of a ceiling fan,
in the rustling of dry palm leaves, in pebbles pouring
from a lorry onto the dusty street. The lips of the warm
wind, trapped between scaffolding and terrace, will