Chapter 26 gray pigeon

The waste cannon stared blankly into the distance Gray pigeon walks on the grass kind of vague whine, murmur rosary all afternoon counting and counting the other side of the sea someone is missing me There is a piece of lips thinking about me there is a mouth that is yelling at me tickle afternoon ears sensitive ears in the afternoon look up, in the cornfield miles of loneliness Evening sun, icy ice pearly clouds Gray pigeons walking under the scrap cannon a vague complaint vaguely continues