Happy the man, whose wish and careA few paternal acres bound,Content to breathe his native airIn his own ground. - Alexander Pope
So what if the airin Paris smells of romance?My shirt smells of you. - Pooja Nansi
the pavement makes no soundas it touches your feetcalm and constantlike silence on repeatlanguidly your thoughts bleedinto the evening airin crimson red the words read'some things are beyond repair - Anna Jae