clouds

The weather was absolutely perfect. Windstorms fell off the ceeling and made way for a misty sun, sun which rose with the mists and shades off cotton wool pinks, and set just the same, erasing the sharp edges, the mountains, the islands and all the reminders of a common reality. When the sun would set it was replaced by a misty moon enthroned in red, a red night sky, a powerful old winter moon, just like the one now. It went on for days, this mist sun, and the mist full moon, and they did not the boy sleep, or the girl for that matter, for trough walls they could feel each other being awake.

If slumber would take over than it would soon be shot trough by the face of the boy, the hands of the boy, the want of the boy, and once they would meet, and see each other fatigued faces, it was clear the thing was happening to both.

Between them stood inconvenient reality, a traditional story which man and god alike have battled with for thousands of years, winning and loosing all in the process.

Once night turned up she lied in her bed awake, aware he is doing the same, and shudering from little pleasures that the sun made possible.


This however did not occur, a thousand years ago, or a hundred years ago, and thus the boy did not have a horse, but he had a motorbike, a powerfull modern black  thing, shiny, maintained and locked up waiting for summer. He mentioned this to her, about him not unlocking it during the winter. But when he tuned up on it, to pick her up, she smiled, and knew that she had been the cause. The whole point  was to make her squeal, and scream , feel hot and cold and warm, hold on to him resigned to fate, to the moment, to him.

The weather was perfect. The clouds made way for a sun, a warm sun which evaporated the mists and shades of cotton,  redefining the edges, the green of the mountains, green of the islands. A new moon rose, sharp and crisp lighting the black winter sky like a lightbulb, putting stars and planets in their proper orbits. She slept. And awoke. She slept and awoke.  All was as should be. It took a while for her to realise that he did not exsist, he was just a fantasy.