That night I dreamt of a hill. Broken walls made of red bricks. A bullets rain. A wounded friend lying in my arms and a dark place where to hide. Lots of men in there where I left him to run outside. I found myself in another landscape and then into a mosque. There were prayers and whispers, mostly silence. Kids dressed in blue, all of them in line, were holding guns and shooting in any direction into the place. There were many, so many victims, all of them dressed in brown, some wrapped in their own bloody clothes. I survived and wondered why.
Sleepless nights came then for me. One deep sleep finally, full of screams he said to me in the morning, but I completely forgot them in the waking blink which I felt like it brought me emptiness.
the f r e e d o m
we most miss.
Love is everything.
Breath deep enough to be.
Let the honey bees fly in peace.