Genoveva

I must have fallen asleep again... A lamb gently licks my hand. You touch my forehead, place herbs on it, they are warm and smell of a long-forgotten song. I can still hear it, hypnotically soft it envelops me from afar. You give me milk...

Rocky black earth still swallows the bitter scream. The night does not want to give up, murmurs sleepily. But something pushes and pushes, wants to go outside, wants to unfold, breaks layer by layer, tirelessly striving towards the light. Tiny...