I dreamt.

Black clouds in a white sky, God had dripped ink upon the air, chuckling. Lightning whispered through like arrows. The creek was freezing, and I was in its deep black ripples, between ice cubes. A test? Anyway,

A wide wooden church, lofty-ceilinged, is known by the obsessed. The obsessed, are obsessed almost to the point of possession, with religion, their religion. I do not know what kind of religion,

Rituals. They pray and pray, not to die in the storm that arrives.

Your dream sounds very... interesting. perfect~

your so beautiful and your writing goes along well with your looks