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A platform is invisible on the road, white light and thick as fog.

The smoke from the chimneys were moved by the wind
but the platform was still there unchanged in the blue sky.
We stopped.

The machine clicklear sounded fine.

The
intense sun had burned some pasture,
and color of the landscape began to change, land
its image near the center.

In the distance, watching the silver bell
the presence of those solitary pyramids remember?

The sun through the glass
feel his aura was
fire and in turn held the white platform
as claiming an address,
sense.

for a moment saw the infinite and a lavender scent pervaded the place covered with green and river

To my right was still playing his machine melody without changing the rhythm, as lunar cycles.

If you saw the mill as
turned slow, very slow
. They appeared

many ways,
many fields planted,
all had the same level as
creating the perfect hand.

The sun stayed in the same place,
no time had passed.
change occurred within the stillness,
was equidistant from all things,
like trees, you saw
on the road keep the same distance apart?

At the end of the journey saw
twelve flowers red,

and started walking again, waking
flowers
touching their petals ...
slowly discovering her perfume.

Cristina Morey