Tales of smoke

by the fireplace.

Havana Club Anejo Reserva and Peter Stuyvesant.my little friends.

the mental agitator and the relaxing one.

Last Shadow Puppets tickle my neck.

watching the road lights and fireplace's smoke taking shapes..when....

following the rhythm.dancing in it.

hunted by sparkles, she evaporates in light.

where those have no powers.

subcutaneous smiles at the place where light fades to dark.

and starts swimming in it's friendly for those who are lost ocean.

letting herelf in it.earning night's acceptance



clouds gathering..

same colors,similar textures.

calling them.to be one.

moments of illusional ennoblement.

rain comes.to slow her down and distort her dreams of higher flights.

praying for the wind to come.to save her.

drive her where she never swimmed again.

wind. the one who repeatadly vanished her.

left her dance unfinished.shattered her violently.

the one that can find her anywhere..

and signal her last dance.

i want to blow her a kiss.

*October 2008...