The end of a night in Toulouse...(25/11)

This was the colour covering the dreams. People use to have a false perception about the colour of the clouds that hold a dream...

Never would it be white except a dream of blankness. When the dawn comes, it segments the sky into layers of perspectives, a contemplation of the completion of dreams. When people are separating from their consciousness to each other, they meet in dream of wonder and ponder. The eye lids are the cloud of immortality, and they protect the ultra light from the quietness and pause. Under the lids, the retina receives the glory of thanks a dream colours. The sky of dawn in Toulouse was lovely to me, and unlike the one in Biarritz, it erased the unnecessary foggy tragedy the pair of eyes have to suffer. The exploitation of functionality is a massacre to elite, and the door of wisdom harmonises an awakening sky in the collage of colours. It weights.