Once upon a crime, there was a dream. It was eager to grow up and become reality. But time was not on its side. So the dream disguised as hope. Hope springs eternal, but sometimes it takes too long. The dream hid behind the mask of obsession. Obsessions move faster, most of the times going nowhere. Days became years, and the dream felt lost. Did it became a fantasy, a teenage pipe dream?
The dream was growing weary and desperate, its wing were denied. It cut them off and burned them. It was standing on the edge of the world. Closed its eyes and fell. Just before it hit the ground, it transformed, in a thousand butterflies. It became pearls, inside the clouds, snow in the desert, volcanic veins on icebergs, flowers on the asphalt, echo of laughter in the wind. Whisper of waves in dark apartments, lipstick on mirrors, unexpected calls in the middle of the night. Words like "i, m sorry", "I've missed you", "yes".
Sometimes, the best and the worst part of dreams, it's that they never die.
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