Like dance in the sun. It is a true

Like quickly dealt cards, the leaves dart past with the bitter wind, winding around towering trees in the way that bandages are wrapped around a broken leg. Pertinaciously, the sound of the wind echoes in the minds of dogs whose ears jolt upright in disquietude, and the leaves linger when they reach the mothers who shield their children by swaddling them in threadbare shawls. From the flower beds, the saccharine smell of white chrysanthemums rises to the people in the woods. It’s a smell that reaches the very depths of life, gets under the flesh of anything and everything.

Cloying and clawing, it chokes the people of the wood in the way that a serial killer strikes his 11th, 12th, or 13th victim – nochalantly. It is an image of the calmest chaos. Across from the park, the villagers dance. Their arms sway to the vehement beat of the bombo drum, as their feet tap the tarmac like rain pattering on rooftops. Reaching out to touch the sky, fingertips meet the papel picado that flies above – staining its fragility with the strength of joy. Their skin stretches into lazy smiles as it is painted by the light of the sun, dark hair aglow with nourishment ; it’s the sun who dances in them, not they who dance in the sun. It is a true replica of the empyrean. Above it all, the sun looms, the light of her glares burying themselves in the eyes of those who stare too long.

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From their eyes, this light hurls itself to another, then to another, and another ; until every animal, every person, every living organism has been contaminated. They swirl about, in a kaleidoscope of life – of living – creating prismatic pictures on the ground that is built upon the bones of before, attached by unyielding strings of light. It is a bond that shall never be broken.This sun, this masterful puppeteer of bedlam and beauty, sits amidst an expanse of pure blue. This blue wraps tightly around the people of the town ; a loving mother hugging her child. It is utterly clear, without a cloud in sight.

Today there is no rain, no storm, no hurricane. Today it is silent. And yet…it is not a comfortable silence. It is a silence that looks benign but is malignant, metastasizing, bone cutting. After all, it is the silent ones that kill.