She used to dream of spirits chasing her round and round, up a mountain with no summit. At first, they -the tribe of demons encased in one masked seducer – caught her and she woke up feverish, sobbing like a widow at her lover’s hanging. Time went by, unpredictable tides, disappointing ambitions, another rodent caught up in 21st century races, unrealistic goals all to be caught and profitably extorted by the age of 30.
The spirits came again, this time in the torrid vortex of a summer storm. She outran the monster this time. Woke up submerged in a palpable peace that transcended her reality. Though -right before the nightmare evaporated – she was still running round and round, up a mountain with no peak.
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