Dreamrain


Rain … I stand by a window embraced by cold evening air smelling of wet tarmac. I stare towards a distant group of trees. Then I wear my blue clothes again, walking among people with a smile on my face, with a step so light. In a moment between realities I glimpse him, walking under the blossoming horse chestnuts, in the soft, warm orange light of a setting sun, preoccupied with his happiness. He comes towards me, taking my hand … and then he turns, slowly stretches his arm and points to a big baroque style building, saying »… there …« I'm left standing on a carpet of fallen chestnuts blossoms, in a sweet smelling spring evening, with Kreutzer Sonata filling my head, while raindrops keep drumming … silently … relentlessly …

Komentarji

Priljubljene objave iz tega spletnega dnevnika

Ne daj se, dušo

Istarski cukarini

Gotske refleksije