It's Patronus in the air. You wish your heart could beat like this, because they're waving wands up there, spinning in cauldrons with spells in their lungs.
It's run and chase, cause and effect, hide and seek, smiling and sorrow. She tickles her bass and it laughs softly, deeply... underground, through the earth, deeply, anthropologizing, not apologizing, deeply. Jazz gibberish comes from rawness, a geyser, striking oil. Hers is like ribbon, his is like raindrops.
Every blood's beat is a gift to you. You can't ask if you want to know... sorry... don't be.
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