It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Waling on the forest, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water...


Caverns of sunset, falling, falling away—just a single vast gold air breathed out by beings—they must have been marvelous beings, those gold-breathers.


If you still believe in magic, 
you're subject to enchantment. 

1 comment:

Luna Crone said...

Oh yes!

I want this, please......