Fairies bound, hilltop to hilltop, ignoring laws of gravity, time and space.
The frightened observer, unable to accept the scene, attempts to recall her last meal.
“The dumplings were bad!” she exclaims, sinking into carpet-like grass, into grass-like carpet.
Fairies fracture yet fail to fade in the light of this untruth.
A dream? A nightmare? An inspiration?
Fairies don’t care what you call them.
They are the lucky ones, the strangely marvelous, the marvelously strange,
Living forever in a moment, and in the moment, forever.
*
for Rara.
