And so alight with fireflies providing us their holy light
And here we made a bed of boughs
And thistle down that we had found to lay upon the dewy ground
And isn't it a lovely way?
We got in from our play
Isn't it, babe? A sweet little baby
Wasn't it a lovely breeze
That swept the leaves of arbor eaves
and bent to brush our blushing knees?
And here we died our little deaths
And we were left to catch our breaths
so swiftly lifting from our chests?
And isn't it a lovely way?
We got in from our play
Isn't it babe? A sweet little baby
lyrics from The Decemberists,
photos taken by my friend, Marcos Avila,
and my new Dolce Vita wedges
equal the perfect night for a walk down the promenade.
I kept humming this tune last night..
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