Everything is still... flowers are dark threads of silk bore by the wind. Cold air is sneaking behind you like shadows. Sun is slowly closing its eyes but doesn't quite want to go to sleep... Like us... Everything is quiet... The smell of water... of pouring, dark, liquid water. The rumbling of old scary trees that you don't ever notice but who have seen them all. I am peace with ... this...

The moon is just a faraway bulb that somebody forgot to switch off and now its hurting my eyes... English is so unpoetic and though can it express feeling?... The sky is boiling with stars...

A tango can be heard or a quiet song... what is it? Is it my mind? I'm scared of the deep empty pit covered by leaves I now suspect to be in my heart... Is it sadness or is it peace? Will I fall through it endlessly if I trip? Grab me in tango pace...

Red rose petals fall through the dream... Colouring the silence.

I wish ... I wish ... I wish ...

And after I have done so will I be happy?