half circle
made of two,
stench of pines,
fingers touch strings:
same weight,
same distance,
same tone? – not even once.
why bother,
why try,
fingers never stay in one string
they jump,
and jump,
and jump…
(There was this one song I wanted to play for eternity,
just one.)
foolish!
fingers skip broken strings,
so why don’t I?
kushtrimthaqi 