Over Exposed

red-wine-heart-248x300“This must stop,” Zara said as she looked at him over the rim of the wine glass. She breathes in, her nose buried, savoring the aroma in the wine glass. The taste on her palate was dark, earthy, with an undertone of oak, and as she exhaled through her ruby lips, a delightful hint of lavender. It must be a French wine, she mused. Zara had to give him this; he knew his wine. Closing her eyes, she let the taste of the red wine engulf her mouth. She had agreed to meet him after much persuasion.

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L’oggetto che Parla (The Object That Speaks)

JesterThe cool dark interior of the antique shop is a welcome respite from the summer sun. As the door closes behind me an insistent voice whispers inside my head, ‘Come to me, I want to tell you a story.’ I turn around, expecting someone behind me. No one. I dismiss it as my overactive imagination.

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The Crow and I

I am meditating in the garden. I hear a fluttering near me and open my eyes. There, beside me, is a large black crow staring, cocking his head, peering at me curiously. He speaks.
“What are you doing?”
“I am meditating, what are you doing?” For whatever reason, I am not frightened nor surprised. Have I lost my mind?

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