Swirls of grey brood in the sky above my little head, imminent danger lurking in the wind. There's now a strange hole up there, the kind that throws you up into another world: puffy white clouds, sunshine, rainbows, only to bring you crashing right back down. It seems to me exactly how life is. One moment everything can seem perfectly fine and the next you're right back where you started: in your very own shithole. So I guess that's what it looks like. A shithole. Ready to throw itself at the ground and mercilessly devour everything in its path.

I don't know how I came to be here. I guess it was my mind that brought me to this place, though I can not, for the life of me, remember being here in real life. It's a lonely place. I'm picking soft, white daisies growing on moist, dewy grass. The plains stretch for miles, beyond my sight's reach. There's a plateau behind me and the grass on it seems to be freshly cut and shaved. Minty aftershave lingers in the mist that seems to be growing heavier by the minute. It settles in my chest, almost suffocating me. It takes every ounce of energy in me to turn myself around, maneuver past the chubby ducks in the pond, nibbling at pieces of floating bread and lay myself flat out at the top of the plateau. My bones ache, my muscles are heavy, I can't move.

It's when the first few droplets hit my face that I shake myself awake. They feel like bullets, piercing my heart, where it aches the most. I try to get up and run but to no avail. It's too strong, I can't survive it. The annoyance at my lethargy, mingled with this irrational fear makes me twist and turn in bed. With crusty eyes I try to glimpse the face of the clock, faintly ticking beside my head.

3:16 am

I groan softly. Another dream gone by, another night wasted. Will I ever get my happy ending, if only in my head? Probably not. But maybe that's the point. You gotta fix what's out there in order to fix what's going on in there. Or is it the other way around? I don't want to know anymore. I just want to sleep.

She glides down the river like a figure skater.

Her elegant white feathers glisten in the sun.

Her long neck enables her to feed from the buffet under the water.

Webbed feet pita pata on the muddy banks creating a pattern of footprints.

A nest is made nearby from floating sticks, that interlock.

Nurture takes over as she searches

for a mate.

One mate for life.

Together they glide down the river,

trailing behind are fluffy ball signets.

Her as family.