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rumblings: the first signs of dissatisfaction or grievance

.~.

I want to ride a bike at dawn and, just as the sun rises and its newborn rays caress my cheeks and drip down my chin, I start biking faster and faster and even though it’s summer and the heat could almost be seen choking the pavement and the trees, a breeze whispers in my ears, “This is love.”

.~.

Our colony, or so we think of ourselves: the select few who believe sleep is the only way out, is called The Dreamers and not figuratively so. We truly believe in the power of dreams, the strange immaterial visions we experience during our sleep; they offer us the only feasible escape from reality and its pathetic laws. We wake up whenever we do but a few hours afterwards we go back to sleep and we are grateful that sleep welcomes us with no restrictions or regulations and so we fall asleep and dream. Dreams are the most potent experiences of being alive and even if unreal at least they spare us worldly conundrums and consequences. Come join us, your dreams are calling you.

.~.

Maybe.

.~.

I just realized that I don’t have “something I haven’t told anyone before.” It’s a sad realization for someone who values privacy and loves hiding.

.~.

One day I’ll receive this huge and colorful bouquet with random flowers, not just red roses or white buds, and mint leaves and neatly folded pieces of paper with names of books and films and songs written in calligraphy unlike any other. One day I’ll bring myself the bouquet and I will be happy despite the world.

.~.

Today I woke up and everyone was out and the silence was perfect. Sometimes, if not always, I need to hear nothing and just go about my self with no intrusions, no questions, no reactions. Just the silence and I.

.~.

And who are you?

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