It was the muffled *thud * that go me away from the blogger drama. So I made it to my parents’ room. The one that overlook our garden from the 3rd storey…
Alone in the dark, I peered through the hazy mist. Grey fumes coming out of the Earth, while a tiny rain damped everything around.
That’s when I saw them, glowing from a distance. The tiniest where hidden by the huge buildings, but a few minutes of patience gave me the chance to see the greatest fire flowers ever. Like an explosion preparing in yellows, then exploding, spreading in reds...Before dying in full splendour.
Fireworks always have a kind of sadness inside. Qomething within reach, but that we cannot touch, no matter how wetry... And if we can do it, then it's only to feel the hurting, the burning of the incandescent powder.
I couldn’t think of anything, but the fireworks blooming in front of me. And my mind felt at peace, enjoying the watching, feeling the fresh air on my skin. A moment of peace, as simple pleasure, and the happiness of feeling alive…
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