thin lips move swaying on her face pale, contrasting with the tan just mentioned the tired body. embarrassed voice trembles and the latter take the form of a gray was geology. the sorcerer gives his verdict from the hills like corn yellow and red fields of poppies as cut off. authorizes the skin making it look like the scarecrow of straw a cat afraid. the birds are raised in majestic flight, explaining the long wings meters and meters and darkening the sky angry. Girgia ash raining and the wind uncover their heads showing pink brains of animals supplied with blood.
someone is bent to spew hatred between curses and cries of the sorcerer who reach the speed of Supersonic. swords and shields as you hit them on the helmets and armor plates on which ignite burning the incredulous eyes of the weakest. the fire of ambition crackles while whispering prayers and sweaty beasts sleepy voice. Sorcerer arms full of bells and chimes and bells frantic move by dropping to the ground a million - no! - A billion ringing. roll and tumble down the hill as blue as the purest cobalt mines in the north. children took refuge under the park's rides rusty dirty his hands and knees in mud.
the Warriors can not wait any longer and come out at dusk, compact, and as legions of missionaries, animated by faith in the youth spent singing hymns to destroy livers and lungs and pancreas and kidneys. sing melancholy as the first love leave and kiss their wives and mistresses as if they were to die today. but the wizard has spoken: no one has the sword of Damocles hanging over his brains. old, whose eyes see spots of color now yellowed by time and pain, sewing wedding dresses for their daughters. are as beautiful as the diamonds cut from the Dutch master, adorned with lace, some with bored puff that rest on top of each other. the wire passes between tissues as if memory of the route to follow, crosses and hidden, sometimes quickly and quietly as the cat on the trail of the prey, others as a clumsy obese in a china shop of leprechauns in Ireland.
horn draws the suitors on the battlefield. Scarecrow crosses his eyes and turn up their nose. the drapes of cloth hanging from the filthy clothes waving flags as multicolored, one for each race in the nation. sings a requiem for the fallen in the battle of the big mountains. know that lie enshrined in the snow and icy paths chills as punishment for their alleged arrogance. a peasant farmer can not fight except with picks and shovels riding donkeys that bray and sold for half a carrot.
the sorcerer makes a pot of boiling water pure gold with large handles that hang from the hips. wood piles, more and more disposable clothes, books on religion and politics, shins of dead bodies, stolen from femurs ossuaries all over the world. Pometti love poems and burns, burns the words of the sages who have sung the beauty of the stars of the evening of August and the sweetness of the song of cicadas. burning pictures of the great academic releasing figures immortalized in the paintings. burn time and oil paints, batteries, rusted trucks traveling on highways of the future from town to town, burning the miles traveled by avid travelers with their tents and their sleeping bags. burns the travelers themselves who have succumbed to the tired litany of god Orpheus. gives fire to the myths of men and orcs, the nomadic circus trapezes and steel bars of cages, all the locks of the gates of the southern plains.
in ecstasy of the destroyer dig a deep pit with bare hands as hell, dirty fingernails of land. you bury the funeral of pagan religions, honoring him with a tear that turns into a river of hope. puts his hand into his pocket and with a gesture worthy of the most theatrical magician pulls out a flute of ebony, which leads to the lips as the diaphragm expands.
plays a blues tune and the flames begin to dance to the rhythm of the melancholic melody. the expanse of grass and rainbows become intense indigo faded as a sprouting bean plants and gradually take Mexican color. the wizard it grabs one by the tail and it stings like a stringed instrument. is the time to Latin American dance! the aborigines of the islands of the launch monsoon shields and spears leave poisoned made gentle as rattlesnakes. Vikings of the peninsula of polar bears raise the jugs of cider and drained them in one gulp. no one should die, not today.
the wizard fills the hole with hot water to bathe. swims to the bottom, like a dolphin in the Indian Ocean, and emerges a little later, dressed in a black tailor-made leather shoes and python, with sharp a knife bought at a flea market. the sorcerer became a magician. Holiday season continues and alcohol grass, sounds and noises. nobody died, at least not today. the sorcerer sits down and leans back on the pile of hot coals.
"what it means to dream?" - Asks me as he lights a cigarette.
"dream is to play on a rainbow-colored hills indigo." - I answer.
"take ..." - And hands me the package.
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