The echo is powerful… leads the children to beds. Small animal walk the fields of soft autumn ready grass. No more labels, no more voice vibrations. All had wrapped it self in everything. All is nothing and nowhere. All is space. We get smaller. As every flake in it's own being. Mass murders are left for past generations. 100 years ago. Smoke tickles the toes. Mist of the dusk is on it's way. Sleep is an irrelevant, untameable being. Time capsules. Curls in the hair. Flowers bring the indescribable calm reflection. Numbers. Numb…bers. Skin. All is nowhere. It covers as a snowstorm. Goes deep. Stays. Blows out. Mist covers the erratic brain. It is everywhere. No need to think. Dive in. The smell of peonies. Most beautiful flower in the world. 1000 petals. A 1000 stories. 2000 characters. Miles and miles or roads. No more sacrifices. No more bullets. Just fields of peonies. Endless. Non Saint-Exupéry. Slightly white hint of crimson.

Fields of peonies
Llorando