jasonzsilver

Somewhere in that lofty expanse, in a darling sky so blue it makes river nymphs jealous, there exists a palace where time invites you to hold cocktails next to the fountain of youth and to doze off on his bed of marshmallows, breathing in the wisps of eternal life. In reflection of your memory, You asked whether my Eden existed outside my imagination and that if it did, to take you under my wings and fly you through those angelic doors. A promise, I made you that evening, sitting beneath the evergreen cascades, starring into the rippled reflection of a sky painted with autumn pastels. Just close your eyes… You're flying.

The 5 a.m. sun rises over the eastern skyscape, unveiling the leafless tress and the empty rice fields. An elderly man, wears a solemn expression reminiscent of his turbulent youth as he works next to you in the endless rows of green. His clothes are made from the same burlap sacks that carried his monthly rations of grain. The same ones that will hold your corpse when it is dumped into neglect. You answer his pity with your ignorance because you don't know any better than to curl up in red curtains on wintry nights to watch everyday of your life replay itself like a cassette on repeat, to run away from your troubles, only