Cosmic Dust

When you stop... when you breathe... When you breathe freely and calmly. You see a motion, motion of a leaf, fallen leaf... Somebody has put an excise mark on it...
You have to stop to see... to see a mark that somebody left on a white wall... and follow the rails that will take you to a place where you feel better. Stop and see the diversity, people, fonts and useless information that already turned into past...
Stop and touch the wall with your portrait on it. Who drove a nail into the wall? And what’s the use of the nail at all?
The nail as a center... moss as a color.
A texture that smells. A texture that touches you. A texture that awaits for a flirt. A texture that awaits for a concept.
A world that fits into a cup of coffee. A world that you see from your window. A world that you love. He loved it too...
Stop and collect the cosmic dust, just stop and you’ll see it. Breathe in the cosmic dust and the sore throat won’t bother you any more.