The breeze carries the voices far and wide. Children’s laughter, the bustle of a bazaar, the whirs and hums of factories.
They live on this island, this city in the sky.
Sparkling carpets of dew, like diamonds in the morning Sun.
Perhaps I need to get my plant fetish sorted out.
She’s bloody well late again.
A leaf lay still on a riverbank. The waters that brought her there had frozen, encasing her brown body in what seemed to be a glass casket. Continue reading “Marie.”