The day in a gloom - dew on the window. The inside is the shelter, until it will start to suffocate - running out. The sacred place is ever pleasing, but the clown is following me. He slept in mye bed last night - rummaging - waking me up from a sleepless night. The stone in the throat still there - the day in a gloom, dew on the window. Is the shelter still safe?
