I love this confusion that the weather goes through. Like a person, it doesn't know what to be. Whether to let the Sun stand with its chest puffed out or to let Winter sneak in through the holes in your shirt. It is being pulled in different directions for reason unknown to it.
In her dream, she was at a beach, finishing all the cheese in the basket. There was a child playing next to her sand-covered toes. She looked at the man sitting in front of her, seeing him for the first time.
'You need to realize the infiniteness of your soul. The world and its endless possibilities, like this child, are at your feet right now.'
'But what if I choke? What if the world I trespass is different, but I'm the same? I can't deal with being the same'.
'Don't you realize how different you are? Don't you feel the rigidity of your existence? Your energy is in sync with the universe. You musn't deny or fight what has been written about you'.
'I don't trust authors'.
'You don't trust yourself'.
She closed her eyes, and woke up on the other side. The side where possibilities were suicide-like, and summer is choking.