He woke up that morning to the sunrays falling into the bed. She had left for a while, she was a moon seeker and for him the art of chasing stars was a mystery. That morning coffee was cold and there was fresh rye bread from the oven. He wondered how he could get a bit of sun into his piece of bread but got soon distracted by a buzzing fly. He drank the coffee cold while thinking of her and their debts.
Everyday he hoped one morning would be normal, that there would be no problems to attend to and that he'll just have to wake up to hot coffee, bread and kisses. But there was always something. He longed for normality, as a child longs for the extraordinary. He would limit his activities to almost none, so problems couldn't increase.
He liked mornings, there was hope for everything to be new. Fresh grass, fresh air, fresh minds ready to start the world anew. Evenings were awful, sunrays got heavy, saturating places with a dark golden light. Everyone seemed old and tired, fixed on a certain painful time of history. He felt stuck in his misery.
By then he had realized the world was just the same as everyday and got sad. He locked himself into his room, closed the curtains and got rid of any sunray stuck in the corner or behind the furniture. Night would come and she would too. He lied down that night hoping for sleep to come.
That night she entered the room triumphantly raising her basket high above her head. She then just stared at him for what seemed an eternity and turned the basket over. Lots and lots of dusty silver stars fell down filling the chamber irregularly and moving around the space.
Chasing stars was a matter of inspiration and hopefulness. For those who look for them only at night they remain unattainable. But to whom the moon spoke night and day elevating their spirits they were always just a matter of inspiration. To use the right words to approach them, the good perspective and the perfect speed was all they needed. And that night was extraordinarily normal for him, since stardust had taken all their problems away.
Everyday he hoped one morning would be normal, that there would be no problems to attend to and that he'll just have to wake up to hot coffee, bread and kisses. But there was always something. He longed for normality, as a child longs for the extraordinary. He would limit his activities to almost none, so problems couldn't increase.
He liked mornings, there was hope for everything to be new. Fresh grass, fresh air, fresh minds ready to start the world anew. Evenings were awful, sunrays got heavy, saturating places with a dark golden light. Everyone seemed old and tired, fixed on a certain painful time of history. He felt stuck in his misery.
By then he had realized the world was just the same as everyday and got sad. He locked himself into his room, closed the curtains and got rid of any sunray stuck in the corner or behind the furniture. Night would come and she would too. He lied down that night hoping for sleep to come.
That night she entered the room triumphantly raising her basket high above her head. She then just stared at him for what seemed an eternity and turned the basket over. Lots and lots of dusty silver stars fell down filling the chamber irregularly and moving around the space.
Chasing stars was a matter of inspiration and hopefulness. For those who look for them only at night they remain unattainable. But to whom the moon spoke night and day elevating their spirits they were always just a matter of inspiration. To use the right words to approach them, the good perspective and the perfect speed was all they needed. And that night was extraordinarily normal for him, since stardust had taken all their problems away.
So beautiful.
ResponderEliminar:D!!!
Eliminar(^_^) Salut, Cherie!!
EliminarCoucou, grand plaisir de t'avoir par ici.
EliminarMerci, le plaisir était pour moi. As always.
ResponderEliminar