on the edge

Cool, freezing summer morning. Though sun rose, shadow seems everywhere, even flowers seem not to have awaken yet. Sleepy, walking through greyish pantone.

Two layers in the sky. Upper one dark grey, almost black, stormy. Between it and the horizon, a cloud band, sleet white, light radiating, almost pulsing through it.

walking in a desert street, no birds on wires and branches. Air so silent that, long after a bus has passed, small noises of his engine still sound in the air, like a clicking chain.

this shade of the sea, between gray, green, dark and blue, ever-changing through dancing rays of the sun, today's sky has caught it. A huge hatch set over the town, bonded through building, a jail for the sunlight or so it seems

among wet dead leaves

on the brick red pavement

a greenish leaflet

Like on the edge, a tiny change brings us to full day or darkest night, a gust of wind, a butterfly...

white butterfly

tell me where the light goes

before the rain

city sounds like a far away song listened from an old seashell, echoes of shouts, motorbikes, wind between cries and whispered words. A lonely bird up there tracing, hasting to some other place along the edge, herald of the rain.

dark summer day

hidden up there

a lonely swift