A man finds himself on a bridge. Drunken, sad, but altogether calm, he watches the dark abyss of water in an attempt to make sense of the influx of thoughts, sounds, lights, colours, waves of volume and an onslaught of emotion that even he, as a man known for his intuition, cannot begin to comprehend.
All he can think about is him. His world, his desire, his deepest obsession: a chiselled man without warmth. As memories turn black, ideals turn ultraviolet. And as the man on the bridge holds his breath, the ice that encases his love begins to melt.
How beautiful we are, to be part of an infinite spectrum.
PRISMS
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Prisms
Short StoryShort - A man finds himself on a bridge. Drunken, sad, but altogether calm, he watches the dark abyss of water in an attempt to make sense of the influx of thoughts, sounds, lights, colours, waves of volume and an onslaught of emotion that even he...
