Hello again.

I have been thinking about my activity on this site since my last post about leaving. A month of holidays has given me the time and environment to think and write. I thought that I wasn't able to express things that I wanted to here but I realised that I was wrong. This place has been my home for writing for so long and I am sure I won't be able to find another place more comforting and...

The shadows drop a little bit of themselves into my cup, laughing. I see them pulsating through the tree branches and vaporising at certain kinks but their pattern never reaches my intelligence, so I bow my head. At this, they laugh again and are quiet most immediately after.

“You are too respectful towards them.”

I raise my head but only to look into my cup where their penumbrae swirl without diffusing into the water. Then, I wait. 

Nothing speaks again...

I finish the corpse. She is alive and beautiful because I dressed her. I dressed her in a washed yellow; the shade of what used to be an artificial sun but is now a rich palmful of sand. It is what my mother would have called a good colour; one that knows its place and grows healthily from the soil, well-balanced and modest; but perhaps this confuses you. I remember that your language does not permit an understanding that my...