I stand in the center of a cold stone amidst the fast flowing river…on the river banks …I can see small caves jutting out here and there. I can feel something trickling down my eyes but I don’t want to know what it is. I don’t want to feel the moist trails left the trickling on my cheeks. A strong gush of wind slaps my hair across my face and lashing them in my eyes. The sun is setting at the horizon and there is a sharp orange line that slowly blends and dips into the approaching dusk, I want to drink the water from the river as it seems as if the reflective glow of the sinking sun has gold or maybe the elixir of life mixes in with it. I wonder to myself, maybe this becomes my savior as I’ll build a cave around me.
A cave similar, or if not similar, then more life-sucking than those that I see around me. Tonight, I know I’ll build a cave around me. A cave celebrating me and my existence in isolation.
But I know, as I’ll be picking up small rounded river rocks and placing them around me with the cold of the night stealthily tickling my bare feet with the stone underneath them, I’ll be visited by pixies tonight.
They will sing me hearty songs and we’ll sit around a bonfire eating marshmallows. They will tell me stories of fairies and nymphs and seeing their big, round eyes flicker in the light of the fire and their shiny noses and content smiles, I know I’ll dose of in a tranquil slumber and enter a meadow dotted with daisies and cashmere sheep here and there.
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