I have five years. Large dark eyes, round cheeks. He smiled.
Besides, brothers and sisters playing in the yard white, shivering under the apple trees without apples.
Do not see them. Only hear them, far away.
Everything is white, similar, uniform, warm.
happy. This is the first time.
Strange, I'm surprised, surprises me.
A groundswell burning which takes its source in the pit of my stomach, inflames the plains, mountains, shores of my body, spring comes in pearls, along the pores of my skin, my skin oozing this happiness in the snow.
Want to flood the world. Tell my father, my brothers, my sisters. Being together, exactly the sweet torment of this avalanche of sensations.
not easy.
words too weak or too specific.
words unique to multiple resonances.
Impossible.
meaningful words full of history too bizarre to be served.
I have five years in the snow.
Understand that the word bar, circle of loneliness. Understand he does not feel understood. Do not solve myself. Do not bring myself to.
I have five years in the snow.
declares war on words. Decides to cut, twist them. Decides to find the fault to release the authentic and similar impression. Make it creeps me intact to another, the other me.
I have five years in the snow.
'm not completely happy.
So it happened.
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