Sillage Thoughts often linger, like a perfumed scent from an item in passing. The object has long come and gone, but the scent rests upon our cheeks and we continue to be consumed by it; this thing which is no longer there. Share this:TwitterFacebookLike this:Like Loading... Related Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email.