It was dark in the room, and cold too. There was the street light pouring in with the cold and fog like last minute additions to an exclusive guest list. I realised then that she was smart. In a very non-apparent way.
It was the quiet expression and the big eyes. Aloof. The smoke coming out of her mouth was like swirls of wisdom. Her words though...I wouldn't exactly call them pearls...
The shadows all seemed intimidated by her and her face in match stick flame light did not glow.
Then it became like my dreams. The ones that sort of turn into nightmares and end with becoming dreams again. Some sort of an abstract script for a neverending saga.
Mutilated thoughts curled up into an aura around her head in a fetal position. Then there was the microscopic perspective to think about. Impressionist dots on a large canvas.
Knees to chest with a chin propped up on one knee. Elbows fit snugly into the palms made only for those joints...
In sleep we're all the same...
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