
Pump
Pump It was an anonymous part of the present. It bore imprints of percolating gears enmeshed into a tentative wheel that turned back the tap of hours streaming, streaming, at the end of a handle – a tear-like dream, a sadness in uproar.
Pump It was an anonymous part of the present. It bore imprints of percolating gears enmeshed into a tentative wheel that turned back the tap of hours streaming, streaming, at the end of a handle – a tear-like dream, a sadness in uproar.