Reminding the consciousness from the first sight is the piece of flying cloud, i glazed at it, stuntingly colour-full...
It remained in the same colour in the second glance, same as life. The privilege of loading myself up in the sky was the tempting perspective of being nowhere, from somewhere. My day is no more than another day, but this time, there was a cloud of thoughts.
Through a repeatable ritual of baptism, the flowing water ran out of the tapping tube and purifies its humaine path via the branches of crossing hair, spiritual, in a moment when the human brain got truly upside down and the world is tilted with blurring limit of height and diameter. The membrane touched the both worlds at a time, an instantly mysterious fear of connection. The water droplets concluded a solid reason of the miserable incompatability, sadly.
The morning, despite the condensation of the mid-night solitude, is reviving with the crowded moment of existence in co-existence.
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