Transitions
Enveloped in cold air, I walk into the stifling heat of a swirling circus with elephants and zebras in it, and lions taking golden leaps through rings of fire. I bury my fingers in the yellow hair, feel the rhythmical breathing of cat muscles underneath the skin. I break free from the embrace. I bow.
I’m wearing a top hat above my eyes (my eyes, they’re emerald green). The tails of my coat flap madly in the hurricane of movement (black butterflies captured in a jar of heat). My fingers are curled around the whip. The whip, it cracks.
Sparks. Fiery dandelions burst beneath my feet. Above the abyss, on a silver thread, I dance. To the sudden sound of silence. I trip. I fall. I twist and turn, a helpless fly in a spider’s web. My umbrella is broken, it has started to rain. The wind tugs at my coat. I take a step forward and the door slides open before me.
Enveloped in cold air, I walk into the stifling heat of a swirling circus with elephants and zebras in it, and lions taking golden leaps through rings of fire. I bury my fingers in the yellow hair, feel the rhythmical breathing of cat muscles underneath the skin. I break free from the embrace. I bow.
I’m wearing a top hat above my eyes (my eyes, they’re emerald green). The tails of my coat flap madly in the hurricane of movement (black butterflies captured in a jar of heat). My fingers are curled around the whip. The whip, it cracks.
Sparks. Fiery dandelions burst beneath my feet. Above the abyss, on a silver thread, I dance. To the sudden sound of silence. I trip. I fall. I twist and turn, a helpless fly in a spider’s web. My umbrella is broken, it has started to rain. The wind tugs at my coat. I take a step forward and the door slides open before me.
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