Things Implying Cyan

Horses galloping like foam on the westernmost edge of the world.
The dream life of camellias.
Hands opening.
Our body in motion knowing where in the world it is.
Familiar dreams.
That warm loneliness, hollow of promise, that welcome emptiness in the house when silence lounges in its luxurious robe knowing my love returns.
Beautiful and doomed, the omnicurious.
A . . . . Z