Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in



    T'was the sound of tears
    falling on the leaves of a rose bush
    which brought me out in the early hours of the day.
    Night recalcitrant to vanish,
    wanting, for a day, to be Queen of Noon.
    She wrapped herself into the limbs of trees
    and hid under the thick skirts of shrubs.
    But Day would not give consent to the absurd.
    Before melting into a river of light
    Night lodged itself into my mind,
    just long enough,
    to deposit a veil of melancholia.

    [jean-claude constantly seeking and photographing THE mystery]
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.