One day while walking he had stepped on the breeze and it had cracked. The breeze was a long entangled chain. The crack spread to spaces unknown.
And then people said no one spoke to them.
One day while walking he had stepped on the breeze and it had cracked. The breeze was a long entangled chain. The crack spread to spaces unknown.
And then people said no one spoke to them.
A few broken breezes were scattered all over his kitchen floor. He tried to sweep those away but a fresh gust of wind came and pushed the pieces in. And the breezes, like feathers, landed all over his food. He had to try, once more, carefully filtering the meal of the breezes. But it was all so futile with the storm playing outside his apartment.
Unable to accept his defeat to the forces of nature, he started breathing, once again.
When the sail had fluttered for the first time, they had thought the winds of melancholia had returned. Chastity had frozen on her dead wings. If there ever was life before this, people sure would’ve been waiting for the sounds of their heartbeat. But the silence was denser than the sound.
In the eagles that came trailing the smell of mutilating flesh, they found the first signs of life.