When Time and Sun

The sun is violent. I hide myself in the shadow of the old church and I keep still, panting softly. The countours of the reality vanishes in the light. The world is white.
It is a moment, a point of higher density. Slowly the journey become stillness, absence, constant repetition of an empty clause…

When time and sun: Valença (Portugal)

The sun is violent. I hide myself in the shadow of the old church and I keep still, panting softly. The countours of the reality vanishes in the light. The world is white.

It is a moment, a point of higher density. Slowly the journey becomes stillness, absence, constant repetition of an empty clause. Time is not any more, its line dissolves, it overflows its own boundaries and falls, confused, towards every direction.

The pigeons cooing, the olive trees, a drop of sweat trickles into my mouth, salt.

My soul is a vast desert, silent, lonely and quiet, infinite, as the sun.

 

Gabi

I am Gabi, an itinerant traditional music player and storyteller, founder and content writer of OTW.

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