Slowly he was losing his strength, he felt drained as if he had absorbed almost everything. Satiety which brought thoughts of fulfillment, not a single urge of consumerism left, total absence of greed. He had a story to tell, but no wish to interlace any word constructs. The inner storm of endless thoughts is passing by, in his condition of the psyche to endure the mind. He delayed the delay, starting to think of comfort.
His longing for thoughtless state had prevailed, thus opening a significant new meaning of the concept for nothingness. Rest... weakness had submitted the account to his muscles, hence expelling all thoughts from his head. Everything started to become blank, and his breath became ever so sweet. All bones were aching softly, and his muscles were soothing the dance. Unable to resist this seductive impulse, the comfort had bribed all his senses, and his body has already become a slave to all the beauties of the passing day.
He bowed down and succumbed to the embrace of the armchair which was offering a delightful haven to his fatigue, only to sail in his weights and submerge deep in his feelings. Just to feel and think of nothing, such an innocent condition, almost a forgotten blessing of his upbringing. Helpless from exhaustion he had done just that, he relaxed in the comfort of the shape of that artificial embrace which conquered him. Not thinking of its dreamlike origin which laid buried somewhere in the depths of his consciousnesses, only to let himself glide, like a finger on a young skin.
And in comes sleep, dreams like cinema.
To dream… it means to be alive, to be free.
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