6/29/15 - 11:45pm
The grandfather clock dings, dongs, dings, dongs, dings — in the morning light, which seeps through the antique curtains, washed. dried. & hung all with care. There in the chair, in front of the time lord, sits the patron of the house, holding the key to the storage below — the storage of the secrets belonging to this house; to the chamber of my heart.
- T.L. // chamber









