impressions

At this time sand is gradually becoming colder, and its the coldness that shapes the sand in millions of small independent pieces. Each piece looks so different that even if you still keep looking for tow of them matching each other its just a waste of time.

My whole life was about waiting, counting minutes, hours, days and years until I became afraid of it. Not the life but time plays tricks on me making me think I live in the present while my mind keeps on getting me back to my past full of feelings I would rather bury forever and never deal with them again. Time brings uncertainty.

Soft north wind carassing my hair, filling it with morning freshness, warm leaves of rose water showering my face with its gentleness remind me of your loving touches on Sunday afternoon when I am still asleep and your fingers, almost afraid to disturb my sleep, touch my eyelids, my warm cheeks and my lips. Your morning breath full of warmth fills my skin with your presence. Its another morning in your arms.