Howling snarls from outside. Rows and columns of heads. Get bored of counting. The old man’s wrinkled hands crossed over a thick book. Wrinkled due to time or from hard work? Hard to tell. A ring on a finger that suggests that the woman he gives a few words every now and then is his other half. The smiling woman turns of the red light but touching it and give something to the tall woman who was just shouting something in a language I did not understand. Safety instructions on a slippery paper. Open a magazine. Ads for rich people, useless junk I don’t need. Who buys this stuff, really? An article about Italian islands. All in German. Put them back in the pocket in the seat in front of me.

Close out distractions. Sun rays that shoot out like sharp stripes over the silhouettes. Silhouettes that transform  into sugar wool just below the dark purple soup. The rays do not seem to reach through there. Look tangible and soft. Think about what happened the last days. Smiles, touches. Friends and moments that will never come again. Now only memories, if I let them stay. I find myself smiling when thinking of things that never actually happened but that the fantasy let me believe could have been the alternative story line. I believe so too. Didn’t that cloud just look like a face?

Through the ocean of fluffy wads I see pearls and other formations of yellow and intense lights. The sun rays are now gone and the only light that hits my eyes are from the neighborhoods reading light on the instrument panel above. Gravity is the only thing hinting me that this is not the sky filled with stars I am looking at outside the window. Reasoning tells me there are street lights. Maybe some houses here and there. I want to think of them as something else.

The sea of white disperse and reveals patches of colors that appear to come closer. Colors in shades of brown and green. Rivers in lanes of red and white, moving slowly. Looks like the thin path I starred at and followed the other day. This time with eyes instead. Sooner than I want to admit I find myself back on my two feet again. But I know, that the next time the swirling feeling in the stomach take off, I will recall all this again. Because it is there I decided to put them.

How do you want to live your one, wild, and precious life?