Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of WoundsThe day closed the day and the sheet of paper the otherunfinished book. In the dusk we entered inside an ancientplain.Everywhere arches looked angry, and in the environmentinvaded by the Mediterranean vegetation. Atthe end of the gothic abutment, in half dark, was mixedthe noisy passage of the stream, a statue of a womanwith baby limbs. I hid the cover of Dranja there in herhead beneath the tiles with mould. Then I went waywith the sounds of the iron gates on my ears that closedafter I left.In that time of mine, outside I saw around their relief,my Middle Ages ended. Before of me, on my lonelinessstays with open arms over the sea, on the skysparks, my spirit was out of the line.258