Our shadowed present

There are no great gestures left, no-originality in the grandiose, the magnificent. All virtue and value have slipped together. Nothing is true, nothing is fresh. So i shall take my place within these small gestures, the little details, those which are ignored. I can only express the expanse within the minutia. i can only find meaning in this feather touch, the way the rain makes your hair curl, the way the smoke catches and plumes- Only in the smallest detail can i find it.