My dreams are filled with water.
The skyline of New York stands in front of me, the subject is to be on a raft in the middle of the Atlantic. The skyscrapers impeccable shine in the radiance of dawn.
few nights later I'm in Venice, board a glass-bottomed gondola. No wait, the keel is not of the gondola, this is the secret that allows the boats glide like a dream, I can see the muddy bottom of the canals, the mud that swallows sins, and the gondolier face no Whether transports me to a house that seems designed by MC Escher, full of hydroponic cultivation. The leaves of the plants are woven together like a little jungle home, and a bathtub overflowing with soapy water.
dream last rains, the drops lick me hot like saliva, the refuge is a building with many doors. In the courtyard fountains and ponds. Not raining. I walk over to the fountain in the middle of the garden, the most impressive. Pets fast hopping without fail to distinguish between shape, but I feel the caress of soft snow. Now I'm lying next to the fountain, the murmur of water, made more intense, is a narcotic music, liquid fingers touch me anywhere. The alarm
surprises me with her legs still wrapped around alll'invisibile fetish, how to hold him.
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