Evening Blues : 6
…and so to hear the writing of the music of dreams. not just a few seconds snatched at the mercy of terror but filmscripts, plays, realistical images, imagined away.
The crowded, pallid buildings reflecting a dazing sun. The rule of confusions muffled under stifling heat, a code only shared with those of knowledge. To the myriad scene, where the city characters let ghosts hide in the shadows. They dissolve into the tiniest cubes and melt into the surroundings, until their routes traced through time become but a silver snail track. The ghosts smile transparently. They have seen it all before, and will again.
[cut to the last seconds of vision, as the dying gasps of ghost outlines fade to black. fade into each other. fade and flicker out. gone to somewhere darker than night. show me the way. we can both go. this candle will not last much longer. close your eyes.]
[there?]
[good.]
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