There was something magical about the fluttering wind that day that urged me to peek out with curiosity.
A storm of sand swept into the city, a smell of the desert, of dusty longing.
Certainly, I wanted to throw myself into the daring adventure, soak up the cheerful taste of coconut fat when I smeared my dry cheeks, yet dunk into reality that the illusion offered.
A movie later.
What changed me was me and the storm, in a golden noise.
Inside and so close that the outer was knocking.
Come on. It’s time to take the next one.