she is alive.

The rain poured hard that day.

This upsets her.

A white piece of tissue, a lost train, endless bended and stolen minutes, that dry her from any happiness.

‘Let’s pretend I will make it work.

Let’s imagine I can predict and recognize perfectness. ‘

A ring on the right finger, a dangerous move of the hip, a drop of salt and water, here she is on the walk to the age of maturity.

A temple that no longer drifts between her and a mirage  - can she stay focused now that the candles have all burnt out?

‘Expand your soul not your needs!’ She thought. ‘Remember no person can burn eternally. No satellite can produce light, only the burning sun can save us from darkness.´

In winter under blankets she could feel him try,’ but can you replace this anxiety with a lover. ‘

A lover who was not born with his head down at the brewery.

‘My kind of people are non existing laughing people, and this switch is non-available. ‘

Regrets, so many. No saints and no angels in silver cuffs around her . To restore her inner self so damaged was a fools thought.

So dream on of a world that is not in ruins.