Nothing is moving and all is darkness. He is tempted to open his eyes, but the dense black is so soothing in its all penetrating presence. A roar of lion is vibrating throughout all that he is jaguar.
A tree is emerging from below, where he is sitting. Purple flickers of light are washing out of that tree's leaves into infinite gaps between motionless winds surrounding all of him. Song of tradition is taunting the adolescent self, which is hungry for more light, for more honest violence towards untouched life. The protector of the baby is crying out in vain. A step taken back, two eyelids are suddenly opened. The room posing space is illuminated by a single candle, the family present.
Two eyelids are closed again and another opened. The same familiar darkness is giving shelter to a broad spectrum of raw emotions, which arose from that glimpse of that room of space filled with people, who are the embodiment of the because to the why. And again, the eyes are opening, closing, opening, closing, opening.
Your Familia Fantasia