Suddenly, I felt my chest being pressed by cruciate straps back into the seat. Its metal buckles cold against my summer skin. The river was calm as a mirror at my feet, 194 ft. down. The air was refreshingly sweet that night, engulfing even the seagulls in the sky flying in lazy circles under the September moonlight.
The bridge dropped backwards. Fast.
My stomach was in my nuchal regional, my knees were warm and week, blood pressing in my finger tips, heart rushing like a locomotive, mind drifting into oblivion. Was I in dying? Was I in love?
This imposing steel and bolts structure, with its ambitious arches, was spinning backwards and forwards, effortlessly and elegantly, supported onto the two towering granite gates. The river was furiously white and rippled with each turn of the bridge yet the night remained perfectly quiet.
I was on the street, walking naked at my own pace with my own thoughts on the cobblestones.
I entered a garden; it was early morning just before the sunrise. There were many people and everybody was asleep on the ground on white crisp mattresses. When I suddenly saw you my eyes must have involuntarily opened wide to allow as much of you to flow in.
I was in a dream but you radiated something even deeper than that, something coming from a different world, more esoteric, more oneiric. More.
I got close to you, close enough to feel your breath touching my chin, your lips slightly opening, your eyes reflecting the first morning rays.
You raised your hand and put it through my hair, eyes locked and then you whispered … we are so beautiful together.
She moves in sylphish steps, into the starry nitid night
Her shadow burning bright, one dancing undulating light,
Her smile is red and pure, her eyes are chocolate green
My hand is in her hand and places yet we haven’t seen.
