Naturally, just as it rushed through as a vain thought in my mind, I obliged. I had to go and see my favourite ivory statue fall. You see it was performed. Humans were pretending to be fictional characters that were pretending to be humans. Intriguing as it sounds, I watched with an open mouth, happy not to drool. The moonskin lover of a past decade (and of mine) had been brilliant. He looked content, professional, tired, and proud. I felt the latter one quite strongly, too, even though I haven't exactly filled in for a mother figure in his life. But now that he's gone to the stars, I've found knew knowledge of him that sent his sculpture crashing down in my brain. The memory had been but a mended statuette, a mere restaurated piece of art, made more of fading and twisted recollections than actual matter. So it disintegrated, and poured down my throat, clogging every single organ that would have helped me speak to him. To the real him. He spoke, nevertheless, and I gazed at him. He smiled, and then I waved. And as the remains of the idol slowly dissolved - the statue used to be mistaken for a human because of its colours, bestowed by the goddess Iris herself -, its mother's blessing diminished, and all recollections turned silvery grey, as if it was nothing more than an old, tattered reel.
I returned to the blotch of dirt I call home to a long-missed sensation: the smell of earth. I stepped, I danced, I ran, I flew, and there it came, wrapping up the sky, tearing down the blue, drumming that solemn solo of cold - the storm has finally come. Flashes of heart-cold lightnings scarred the horizon, the clouds seemed to hay in a whirlpool, and I stood there, grinning, like it was the first time in centuries that I saw my real family again. As the wind tore at my jacket, I opened my arms to welcome the brother so neglected for long. Lights blinked from inside the buildings, doors shut, car wheels creaked, but nothing could hold me from only sensing the shower of cold pins, and the soothing thrum occasionally interrupted by a mighty growl from aheight. I suddenly felt home and safe, not because of the place, but for the closeness. I felt as if I could touch the melting sky, I felt the angry wind embracing me in a wild, weeping way, as if a lost sibling would have returned.
You, standing afore a storm of applause, among the stars, me, standing under the frenzied sky, girt by lightning, both of us in our place where we really belong.
Topic unwittingly provided by the Baron.
