Candles and the blues

A tongue splits almonds into two natural halves without breaking them. The folds of the curtains catch the last rays of the sun almost stifling their throats. Old audio casettes rattle along in an old music system. The rusty strings of the guitar are plucked. The clock, even at midday is thunderous. Time slips away like sand through a hole in the pocket.

Strange holidays help clear the mind.