Retreat

The winter fog followed around as those two walked along, anonymous. In that closeness was a warmth; their hands were deep in the coat pockets, they barely touched each other. Pensive, some sadness, some thoughts, some dreams made a confluence of moods on her face which carried the marks of time. She looked down at the road, and he listened intently, as if they were standing still on the cliff of a hill measuring the immensity of time on the road they walked. Thanks for the image  + Sall Originally shared by Sall - 1 comment Givenchy and Audrey Hepburn in Paris, c.1980s

In the distant rim of the moonlit shore the moor and the lake shine. Time on the horizon stands aloof like a distant shrine. In the hour of dawn the shroud melts The waking eye has an instant glimpse before the mystery of the night is veiled again in the  primordial light of the morn. Time like an honoured guest departs,  leaves the enchanted realm of the fading moon, and throws the key back into the abyss again April 2, 2015. Shared privately • View activity