Hi-ho and hello.
…it’s evening, the late summer cicadas sing and chitter with the crickets. The boy plays.
The streets are loud tonight and the mosquitos won’t stop sucking at the arms and legs.
The sensations of summer heat still linger heavy and yet there’s a smell of winter in the wind.
The boy plays into the night, singing indecipherable tongues, moving cables, moving cords. The boy plays and plays.
The crickets chirp, the cicada sing, the hollows silence between the pauses leave a scent of coming change, a sound of perpetual motion.
The boy plays through summer heat, with autumn showers, and revels with the winter winds. He sniffs at the air, senses change, and shouts to the sky. The boy plays.
C’est La Vie
Good night and good morning, good morning and good night. I thank you for the support shown and coming time and again. Thank you.
May your night be delicately beautiful and the day joyous and splendid. Thank you for being you and staying awesome.
NOSCE TE IPSUM
Dream Dark Stories 