Liam brought me some shells, he holds them carefully in the sandy hands. The sun-dried grains slip on the ground, mixing with the others and becoming anonymous, without memory of themselves. No one will remember them any more, as in the hourglass of my life, where every day mixes itself with the other, waiting to empty his head.
I see a gentleman passing in front of me, he wears elegant trousers rolled up to his knees and he walks on the water's edge. He makes a beginning of a smile, even if his eyes remain lost in the sea. I say hello and I wonder how he is, what he wants from life, if he's good, bad, if he's running away from something, if he's always so sad, if he likes shells. Imagination is the only remained thing since I'm on this wheelchair.
YOU ARE READING
A life in grains
RomanceA hoping life through the efforts. "Imagination is the only remained thing." First classified in the literary competition Association Palma, Como, Italy - Annie's story is one of many real stories, a difficult theme to imagine and feel, the impossib...
