She sensed another smell to her house. She couldn’t see anything because the smoke had enveloped all its contents. But she was not alone. Someone had heard her confidences. It could only be an intruder. She then looked and saw that there were three figures. They were quiet and listened to her carefully. When she had finished her monologue and caught them listening to her words, they turned back towards the fire and poked the flames back to life. They had women’s silhouettes. The shape of very ancient women not from this time. But their fresh morning air gave the impression that they had been passing through every epoch without time having been voracious enough to leave any marks, renewing themselves with every delivery that they performed and were rejuvenating as they stoked the flames. They were obsessed with fire..
from Olhos de coruja Olhos de gato bravo [Owl’s eyes Wild cat‘s eyes] |
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