Like the breaking of a fever, the thing called time - fractures, cools, ebbs away, a wave in retreat. There is debris left behind all the flotsam and jetsam washed up. There are husks of butterflies everywhere; dropping like leaves from the edges of windows, from the fronds and trellises of bush and plant, from the walls and the trees. They crunch
( Read more... )
i say to him, with my mind, i tell him everything so he will know it’s me and that i’m here, and that they have me in chains but when they were wheeling me in to this place, wheeling me down the long dark passages, i saw something.
i said, panting slightly and resting my hands on my knees. That's what they tell you, right? If you're dizzy, feel faint, bend low and breathe slow, it's the truth i know - i remember it from... somewhere.
The wind is barely touching the sand. ( Read more... )