Eyes are veiled. Night takes sleep away, although mind longs to rest. An endless trip begins and dreams come as past memories, remembrances of what’s long forgotten. Nostalgia is constant, the bitter-sweet thought never leaves, like cold hands on those of warm heart…Dreams seem somehow connected, giving evidences to the truth - the one that lies deep within.
Taking form near a cliff, she does not fear death, she walks with it, above it, under it, beside it, she dances gracefully on the cliff. Danger makes her soul whole, makes her feel powerful, ethereal. Wind passes through her and she’s part of it. Against her pale face as knives! What a pleasure, a cold, silent pleasure. She loves the white as she tries to hide it. White is the water and the snow, white is the cold, white is her. White is a mysterious woman. The color of the ritual of souls!
Searching depth: contemplating stars, sending messages from afar… Beings of a greater nature - guardians of my universe, symbols of ancestor knowledge. She wishes to be whole with the stars, to be the night they bright in, patron of the thinkers, the giver of dreams.
Night is the cold! Black is the sky, the tree and the wave!
But she is gold under the Sun!
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