The Lodge.

In here times slows down, I become a single fragment of my former self, breathing, feeling, experiencing a set of complementary distortions bent on numbing the outer reality.

The Boy.

One evening. He laughed, he laughed some more, he kept laughing until he was no more. One day he believed, he used to believe, he jumped, he used to jump. Crossing distances, he used to cross, sometimes running, sometimes jumping, until he was at a loss. He used to dream with distant shores, sometimes forests, sometimes fire. one night. He burned inside out from desire.