In Parallel Worlds the morning spreads his dew grieving over fallen leaves, a reflection of dream frozen in time hanged on a washing line like an old worn out clothe. Days are named after moments lived and recorded in a Book of Random. Night composes music in black and white keys and plays it to the daydreaming stars. In the hourglass time trickles through the neck of present and the guardian turns the world upside down when the last grain of sand empties the past, taking moments into the future. All is fleeting, all is peaceful, all is as it is. In Parallel Worlds.

When the day closes down shadows enter your soul. Dances that they
perform distort the here and now. Arms that hold in embrace, feet that
you have to follow, times that you have been borrowing, memories you
have to erase. Distance created by convergence, closeness breaking the
bonds, failed to inspire response. Total eclipse of your consciousness

He burst into the room through the window, riding on the crest of a sigh. Light breeze of one’s thought. He skimmed the tops of all the surfaces he found and ruffled the flaming feathers in the old fireplace. Played with the curtains until they start shivering from the excitement, stroke the right moment, slipped under the covers, and draw a shriek of pleasure from his refreshing touch to the bare skin. He brought in his pockets the whispers of the forest recorded on the dried leaves and scattered them across the room like confetti. Swirled a reminder or two into a head spinning waltz, creating an illusion of a vortex in the middle of a room. And when he finally got tired from the frenzy, drew the bed curtain aside and found his dream lying peacefully under the blanket of her sleep. A soft breath of wind, he traced her contours with his gentle fingers and whispered something in her ears. And as she smiled to his words in her sleep, he tip toed out of the room, carrying away his only treasure – a sigh of pleasure drawn from her lips…

Take a walk in the park. Boots and scarf. Pale sun rays like the strained strings of invisible violin pierce the misty air ready to be touched by the fiddler’s hand. Listen to the prelude notes carried by the leaves as they’re falling down slowly called for by the gravity of the Earth. One after another. The notes drop, each in solitude of a single piano key. C flat, then E flat and a couple of G’s. Scattered over the ground they wait to be picked up. To be taken. Carried in one’s hand. The flowers of Autumn days. A multicoloured symphony of nature. A music to one’s ears. Take a walk in the park. Inhale the freshness of crisp air slightly scented with that special perfume of moisture, a signature of Fall. Shuffle your feet in the piles of fallen leaves, find the biggest heap and dive into it with a laugh. Let the amber fingers stroke your face as you look into the green eyes of the Fall, spellbound by her smile. Play with a capful of the wind that slips in between the leaf sheets and rustles them carelessly until they cannot breathe overwhelmed by the passion of his touch. And when you sop in all the wonder of a moment, pick few colourful notes, carry them within your heart. Wait when the Autumn’s day is done and leave them on a bench where you once sat with the one you loved. As a reminder of the moment shared, written down for the record on a post it notes.

Fall is a fire. Ignited from a single spark and suddenly she is a laughing fairy dancing in a fireplace. She plays with the flame that licks her open palms as she feeds him with her sparkling giggles. She is a kind and welcoming mistress of an Autumn’s secret retreat. Deep in the forest the paths take you there, just follow the light she put up for the travellers lost in their ways. Find a small wooden shelter by the old oak and enter the place of comfort and peace. Take off your burdens gathered through the summer’s chores, come and sit by the fireplace. Sip some red wine rich in magic. Read the beautiful poems written on the window by the Rain, the finest writer inspired by the one he is secretly in love with, by a red haired Queen of Forest, crowned with the rustic gold, bejewelled with the amber’s finest gems. She is a mystery, she is a wonder, she is a peace…