Capillaries Broken Pain Throbbing The number 8

We went in the afternoon to see the fish of the Quai de la Mégisserie, leopard month in March, the squat but with a yellow sun where the red came a little more each day. From the sidewalk overlooking the river, indifferent to the bouquinistes that nothing would give us no money, we expected when we would see the tanks (we were slow, delaying the game), all tanks in the sun, and as airborne hundreds pink and black fish, birds still in its air round. An absurd joy we take in the waist, and I sang crawling across the street to enter the world of fish hanging in the air.