Snowy cotton

".....can't describe it..."

Yesterday I was traveling in an unknown place. And the weird, pale and beautiful blue of the cloudy sky made me take off my shady glasses for a while and look at the world for the first time without feeling scared, panicked or sickened.And while I was looking carefully at the sky, I saw you walking at the snowy cotton fields, creating your own route, with your rigid... almost military walking. Your despair dressed your hair. Upon your chest you had hanged your hate. I can read within the signs of your skin your story like a book, whose writer looks desperately for happiness.

Author's Note

What do you think of the images created by this writing?