…with a soil the color of sandalwood and covered by olives, where deep poets sing and nomads of thick and black eyebrows dance. A place with summers that could remind you of hell were it not for the cool oasis grown by its cheerful people.At sunset, the skyline is filled with very little birds that trill loudly and, all of a sudden, stop their flight to stand over the weary roofs of houses, one next to the other. And thus they remain, waiting for the tide of night to rise slow and dark.
I believe it is their farewell ritual to the Sun, after its ancient daytime path. As if those thousands of small and restless eyes spread prodigious whirlwinds of praise onto the warm air of the twilight.
(Excerpt from The Ways of Inifinity, available online for free.)
The Ways of Infinity 
Leave a comment