COBBLESTONES

I knew that there was another world hidden among the cracks of the bumpy cobblestones. I believed in it because I felt that it is following me. In fact, it followed my movement day by day, recording it in the way it knew best. I'm almost certain that it owned me. It owned me, mostly because I would always miss it when I'm far away.

In the rose bush near the cobblestones itself, the night was hiding, when the whiteness of the daylight illuminates every crack. Unlikely was the prospect of finding among those cracks what he was looking for, the day was slowly retreating, and the night, guarded with rose thorns, spills again over the cobblestones.

Then various creatures, that haunt my thoughts, crawl out of the cracks, and after they finish what they intended to do, they return satisfied to rest.

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