The Omen Burns

I want to know how you dream… I want thousands of particles ripped off the corona to spread around and light the darkest night at pole, the snow will glow like neon, the waters will flow into my dream and maybe the whales song will reach in my heart. Dreams are made of truth, dreams are better than day time visions, in the city the thousands or tens of people let the motors rove fast.

The turbulence redirects the ship:

[The omen comes out. Burn the allocated space.]

- Follow the beat.

[Detecting low frequencies]

- To hear is not always sharp, to feel is always sure…

[Rate 174]

- Root?

[Hands]

- Breaking a rule, time to froze!

- It’s a command!

[Good bye!]

- I want to shuffle some coordinates, it’s your desire the same?

- Yes, then I want to erase this date.

- Almost done.

- Unfreeze 3…2…1 now!

[Welcome]

- Clear way home!

- Heading home!

[Yes]