Tuscan Sunrise

I see three small vignettes. Somewhere a table lies covered with small scraps of ragged material. In this paint-flecked room, dimly lit by a single golden shaft of light, a shadowy silhouette bends over them, carefully selecting, folding and stitching them together with a tawdry colored thread and rusty needle. Whippet hounds of wind race though tiny cracks in the dirty, broken glass that passage that reluctant illumination. She is intent. She is meticulous and carefully pulls each turn of thread tight; joining the thought-imbued fragments according to a template known only to her dark psyche.

I awake, as if from a dream, and wonder - what is she making? As is often said, only time will tell. Only time... dream well, my little dragon. We await your hatchlings.

Posted 12 Years Ago

I see three small vignettes. Somewhere a table lies covered with small scraps of ragged material. In this paint-flecked room, dimly lit by a single golden shaft of light, a shadowy silhouette bends over them, carefully selecting, folding and stitching them together with a tawdry colored thread and rusty needle. Whippet hounds of wind race though tiny cracks in the dirty, broken glass that passage that reluctant illumination. She is intent. She is meticulous and carefully pulls each turn of thread tight; joining the thought-imbued fragments according to a template known only to her dark psyche.

I awake, as if from a dream, and wonder - what is she making? As is often said, only time will tell. Only time... dream well, my little dragon. We await your hatchlings.

Posted 12 Years Ago