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[title type="subtitle-h6"]Max Kasun[/title][vc_row][vc_column width="11/12"][vc_column_text]It was very long after winter:thesong and the steps werecrumbling:were being washedaway:it was very bright and the clouds conducted a uniformglare:the buzzing and movinggoing sturdier, moving inwards and taller:and we had lost the tendency to discern, underneaththem:and some babies separatelyshrieked:off over the lake the sky resolved birds,stretching wings,trying to dissemble:the vernix about them:trying out being very related to theirmoment:but being only collateral:because thesteps were gone, or at least toobright in the heat:so that everythingwas perfectly in front of us and out of sight:and we do notcare where those pieceshave gone, doyou?it is long after winter.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]