'It looks like the evening is setting,' said the grey man to his cluttered table. Empty sheets of paper were scattered around the room. A fierce ocean breeze was still coming through the opened window. The unkempt room breathed along with every entering gust. The old man moved towards the papers rustling at the feet of his desk.
"I'd love to talk."
The sound of the young woman talking to herself blends in with the emptiness of the ocean. Days pass, nothing changes.

"May I be.."
Forgotten wooden shapes with untainted balance, the only figures in an empty blue world. At the horizon, sea and sky shade off into one another, obscuring the line between dreams and reality. The ever-present breeze softly carries even waves to the offbeat wooden structure. The waves and the wind make music together. A worn-out radio rustles along to their song; the meek sound of a voice can be heard.

EditText of this page (Last edited Jan 13, 2017)