Writing

In a confused stream of thought, moving like a pendulum between reality and fiction, notes fluttered on the walls of the cabinet of curiosities.

In a hidden corner of the world, ruled by King Burt, who wielded a bell instead of a sceptre, I stood under trees whose branches were wrapped in sheepskin.

This morning by the Rio Juruena, a cat asked me for advice. It wanted to know how to satisfy its hunger for adventure.

Recently, as I was smoothing out my thoughts with a roller crusher, when the hands of the wall clock were engaged in an endless chase..

This morning I danced in the brine bath, barefoot on the moonlight. Volpedo whispered secrets to me while I stirred a tumult of stardust in my coffee cup.

I spiced up my breakfast this morning with rune stones, a recipe that Hakon the Jarl whispered to me..

Corinna danced with the shadows while Coenonympha, the immortal butterfly, just watched.

In the lost corners of Neuquén, where time seems to stand still, Eleanor whispers mysterious words that echo in the wind like a gentle pulse.

In the infinite universe of the mind, where the echo of a four-cylinder engine reverberates, the KL2..

In the swirling winds of everyday life, where thoughts dance like leaves in the fall, I found myself…