It was a parenthesis, a hole in space-time, days of oblivion foggy, fatigues osmosed of dreams, desire, colors slamming on a cliff. If i was telling thee, you would not Continue Reading →
Rooted in Reality, she is only Nostalgia. She has an insatiable taste for living and for looking back. She imagines life as a tree of birds, and to reborn again she had to leave. In her mind, Travel is a poem. Abstract or Real, they meet. White page… Errand… they blend.
My name was Annamaen Isilith. The penumbra has filled the room. The fire is crackling, snapping a few twigs. The glowing flames underline the pallor of her skin. Outside the Continue Reading →