She glances up at me and smirks, this time exhaling her breath upward into the moonlight.

Steam within the primary loop, now no longer circulating with the water, rises.

If there's any rising mist or dew in your photo, chances are it's sunrise.

The innocent and the beautiful Have no enemy but time; Arise and bid me strike a match And strike another till time catch; Should the conflagration climb, Run till all the sages know.

I asked as a primitive sense of arousal kicked in at the base of my medulla.