Oneself floating through ether thoughts, surrounded by breeze spoiling the sound of a not so distant lake as deep at the immersion itself. on that shore I lay seated
Curled finger on my hand let me know its not just me, subtle threads dances by mi side, following serene melody of the wind.
Even though it feels real there is something that says: "its not what you're thinking but you're very close"
A slight pressure soaks my hand so softly it could have been air, it makes me turn to see lips moving towards me pronouncing words I could hear but I'm sure they didn't made a sound, all the colors twisted and mixed; light shades of blue meet silver lightnings from spring clouds, the shore's ash gray fused with many pastel greens that just a few seconds ago were trees and grass. and as soon as conscience came back to me the colors were gone and only a vague sensation of synesthesia remained left.
Now it all was just a room that felt like a Lanscape
A 2 am Sky which feels as a timeless mix of brown leaves, snow flakes,blooming flowers and blue skies.
A silence Interrupted by a heat beat
A Lake, a Shore and Lips that were and weren't there simultaneously.
It wasn't a dream; it was just a memory of something that hasn't happened.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Espacio Singular
NonfiksiLo que sea, cualquier cosa o de todo. si viene de mi esta acá.
