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under the veil
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Noon, walking around the city streets. Low, white-washed houses, streets clean, pots smelling of mint, lace and intricate embroidery stack at the window pane by the wind blowing, a kid balances on his bike's front wheel, slips on the pavement. For a moment you think you went back in time, to memories that bring emotion and a beating heart. As you go along and get lost in the alleys you discover hidden secrets behind colourful headscarves and doors to inner yards.
The winter is slowly coming; the machine fills up with wood and the eye with chips of wood. A ball slips from hands, a cart runs and disappears on the street corner, a girl looks at you with two huge brown eyes, a grandmother sits on a mantel recounting her childhood “once upon a time” she said “a river crossed the city and I would listen to the secrets of the frogs every night that I laid on my bed, the river is now gone”. The sun sets, the last sunbeam nailed to the park.
