chamcana

chamcana
-in works-

feeling ridiculed, being trashed the whole day by gangs of boys trying too hard to impress her, she rode her bike to the far end of the lake. peace and the whispering winds feed her soul, sooth her nerves. he woke up late, past 12 on a warm afternoon, sultry in wind languages and romantic is all other aspects. its saturday.

another hour went past before he got out of bed, wandering aimlessly in the endless corridors of his house. not a soul in sight. the curtains flailing on all windows, and blinding white light from a relentless sun floods in from all openings.

the chirping sound of his neighbors, drowning the rowdy voices of weekend birds on trees lining his world.

the lake appear calm, dry almost but for the water. is it her imagination?