• Tales of icebergs. •

I will tell you the most beautiful story that stayed in my memory. Once upon a time, In the icy oceans.. the waters were calm, and the sky was stormy, but silent, silent as a Sunday afternoon in winter.

There he was.. they? that? I can't say for sure what, I know what I saw, I saw icebergs gathered, how a city had wires, poles, light, and that, that... A huge idol in the middle, shimmered like polished silver, shimmered as if the sky was clear and the sun hit directly. I'll never forget that. It was beautiful."

The iceberg cuts its facets from within. Like jewelry from a grave it saves itself perpetually and adorns only itself, perhaps the snows which so surprise us lying on the sea. Good-bye, we say, good-bye, the ship steers off where waves give in to one another's waves and clouds run in a warmer sky. Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected indivisible.

by Gen Doodler | twitter.com/GenDoodler