My nostalgias memories

There are days in this place when I used to see tall trees, green grass, chirping birds, and a noisy river that flawlessly overflowed into the serene silent deltas... I used to sit on a rock at the river bank, and watch the whirl wonky wild wind entwinning and twirling the rising tides without remorse. Then slowly, like an early morning snail, a placidity of peace and quietude would tower the air.

There are days on this river bank when I would cross my feet and play my flute and glare at how dusk slowly swallowed the shimmering rays of the sun... The wind would whistle and make snakes hiss to the tunes that I played. The stars would also twinkle and make the moon bliss and blush at how couples cuddled and kissed

There is an epoch in this place, when rain was rain. Everytime when dawn cracked, mist and fog would taint and blind our eyes... Everytime when the sun shone, its shimmers would make mist and fog fade away. Like a trench of smoke on a windy day...