djjakimoff Basil Yakimov

Short stories about how even from space you can create a masterpiece.


Inspirant Tout public.

#space #colour
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The Colors of Space

The sky is beautiful today. Not a cloud in sight. The stars are twinkling buttons on the black cloth of space. A light breeze blows, swaying slightly the branches of the trees in the park. Sometimes the crickets start their trill and then stop abruptly. I hold your hand, lightly stroking your delicate fingers. You smile sweetly, looking up at the sky. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch you too. You are shining, as if in the dark expanse of space, an inexperienced navigator of a spaceship accidentally opened the hatch, and from there the colors poured out, turning into multicolored clots and completing the picture with each other.

We lay on the grass, watching the flashes of dark color. It's as if the northern lights just popped into our faces, turning into all the colors of the rainbow that happens after a rainstorm. I squeeze your palm with mine and you flinch slightly, opening your mouth involuntarily. Your eyes widen in surprise: the voluminous, multicolored clouds of smoke create the illusion of a rising sun, which immediately turns into storm clouds to the color of raindrops, and then to the shimmer of falling snowflakes.

I can't help but stare at your moist lips the color of ripe raspberries. They beckon to me like the vastness of space that is open before us. I pull you to me and kiss you softly, lightly, as if there were a butterfly on your skin and I was afraid to scare it away.

You closed your eyes and ran your free hand through my hair. It was so beautiful that I wanted to forget myself and fly off into the vast expanse of space, where it was just you and me.

You became it for me: in your soul there were billions of galaxies, each of which was like a new page of someone's life. Out of time, out of space.

That's a nice laugh. It belongs to you. It's the laugh of a newly born star. She's cozy. She has something most of us don't have. Freedom of choice. Freedom of space. Freedom of action.

And, when it's over, I'll meet you up there. We will also be twinkling, looking at the same young couple who love each other despite everything and against all odds.

Space is limitless. You are my cosmos. And I draw patterns on your skin with my fingers like an artist paints with a brush on a dark canvas, making light strokes and creating another masterpiece.

You are a beautiful creature. Know that. No matter what happens.

1 Septembre 2023 18:31 0 Rapport Incorporer Suivre l’histoire
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