Dreams
Far from reality, yet somehow our own. Dreams are the colors of black and white life. Tiny bits of our reality, a large spoonful of whishes. Even when dreams are just fictions, Even when they are just subconscious images. Dreams are the hope of a better life. Dreams are still the currency of the future. To the orthodox of reality, dreams are the breaks of freshness. Like a light shower of rain, after scorching noon. Be it a dark dream of pain unknown, or be it the sweet dream of a walk in the clouds. We still drift into the boat of adventure each night. We sleep and dream through the night.
