“Perhaps all romance is like that; not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in everyday life. Only a drama will do and while the fireworks last the sky is a different colour.”
Jeanette Winterson – The Passion
They are waiting in the fading light as time overflow off Samhain. The tempest has gone and visitors are few underneath the leaded sky. They have followed you. Your massive hands are empty while my immaterial fingers hold up some meat, but they flock by your side.
There is an imaginary dialogue full of peaceful tensions, a delicate game of gazes and wings, loud voices and soft purring. This is when I know time has stopped in the air as the ocean continue soaring at our feet.
I wish for a dark feather to caress my cheek, a wing to…
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