The velvet kiss I receive every morning is matchless. It goes with me along the chasing of the hour hand for the minute one, endless. It invigorates the rolling; the wheel of fortune passed away, the weather-vane, which I would longed to hold as a life preserver, represents today an obsolete contraption. Without measure, without censorship, the horsewoman rides adventurously to the land where she becomes a centaur. When i close the windows, then, is when every nuance of every possible stimulus received, gleams as incandescent metal, branding the brain with indelible impressions. I drunk from the wrong fountains, the clogging polluted sustenance kept me barely alive just to breathe. One eye opened while the other was suffering from narcolepsy. Then one day i grew up to become an infant frolicking in a grassy slope, yes, I am the architect of the kitty cat splash sound, mixed in the distance with the stream murmur and the laughs. I can’t wait to see, I can’t wait to do, in the movement of the cogs I ride from the North to the South Pole. See me coming in, perpetrating a quadruple mortal pirouette to, peacefully, sit and play with the points of my toes on the surface of the lake, still unable to seize the magnificence of such an unbelievably beautiful metamorphosing watercolor landscape. B_Nour.
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