The accordion ebb and flow of
infatuation. Waltzing, Parisian
lovers entwined. They once stood
silhouetted in the hazy ember of
Sunday twilight.
Separated by a plague, their world
halted on its axis and spun the opposite.
They shout toward one another as a
fissure flexes and casts them away from each other.
Their ears cupped to hear as their cries fade and
echo; eventually lost to any reverberation.
by Erik Shinker
Yo, Eric, is it “the accordion ebbs and flows” or “the accordions ebb and flow”?, or flow of infatuation could be a indivisible idea. Something like
“The accordion ebbs and a flow of
infatuation, waltzing, parisian,
entwines the lovers. They once stood (…)”
I don’t know, it just sounds a bit strange, the way it currently is.
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Thank you for catching that! There was an extra “s” on ebb.
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