After the blinding sunshine, the screams of the fighters, the ceaseless hubbub of the city, I expect the evening, this particular time some call the twilight.
A sweet darkness invades the nature, the moon rises through the shadows to reach its zenith. The nature loses its forms for an Imaginary designed timidly under the white light.
For a brief moment, nothing emanates from black, no bird flies, no wind, no voices. A very small eternity suddenly bathed in the diaphanous light of the moon.
Then I guess the rustling leaves, the mussels sounds of animals, I hear the turbulent ride of the distant water on the rocks.
My skin tingles under the caress of the wind
I travel on the wings of time.
Khalysta Eryn Mîl