SelfXpress-1

The Dream of an Owl

She has found herself in a natural terrace of red rocks filled with salty sea up to her bare wrists, and a dark forest lo-behind. She couldn't understand which season was it, nor what time of the day it was, the wind was lukewarm, so was the water, but it was dark as winter. Saw the empty houses on the natural balconies of the rocky hills on her left. Empty villas, "all so strange" she found. With noway around. She climbed with bare pale white feet turning into pink and bloody. It was her hair wet, stiff and dark, and like a beautiful strong black tale of a whale. Climbed with all her power. She ended up in more darkness, inside a villa's walls. Light was hardly filling inside, cold-o and pale as it reflects from the ocean. As soon as she entered the house, someone murmured once. A solely soul, almost sleepy on a couch, a half naked boy, seemed like waiting for her. She, then understood no more of all, but taken of her clothes in the hall. She stood up infront of the boy, naked, brown tanned skin of her slowly approached with full invitiveness, both opened up like hell lillies in the blind darkness. Taste of a nappy, cut-sleep has flown through mouth to mouth, she tasted it and accepted it as a gift, like each of those moments of that moment in that mourning hour. She looked through the window, glass, framed the garden at one glance which was sitting outside in before-storm-calmness, dark fallen tall and winds have blown like a call, before the last storm on earth pondered deadly, fulled with god's thirst of ending it all, the whole, they wondered once more through their lonesome and united soul.