Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of WoundsBreathing her soul on the booksIt’s not the first time that we tell in books about theturtle. Even the yellow color match to them, like the landwere they lived and died. Her breathe except every spotin this circle, not only the dust over the soul, but humanforgiveness, as in every good book , but even the fire.She has her place in the area, here where it is, like anold man that has cold and stays on the best corner ofthe room.The surface breathes with vigor in the old and newletters, as the old man does near the fireplace that exceptthe warmed wise word.To honor it, in the tortoise cover there are no pens orpencils or other devices to write. The best it can do is tokeep open a big book that the wind does not move. Letit be only ornament, artwork, only to see it.To change a bit the monotony of the cupboard withmany books, it may be put close a candle.New eraI lost the faith on the spirit of Dranja as my fatherdid, in the shoulder, which after saw it for many yearscould predict any more the future. I had it even before,but I forget it. Sometimes I saw it in the dream, on theback swimming in the water. The next day even thedream I couldn’t remember. No stuff that was in snow.One day a philosopher came and he saw a logic book.The brochure with no leather or carton cover, hadhidden in Dranja for years. When the man took the book254