The sharp teeth anguish similar to the dog in my last dream who had grabbed my hand is penetrating my body under my ribs, the autumn turns her coat the depth of the sea roars from its mute lungs.
The sea weeds are looking horrified from that place the light is very difficult to reach, cannot feel any caress, cannot feel even the intense cold and the breakings in my own body, immobile in the ground.
The salt passes through their membranes and gliding on the cheek, never drying. I tear them, I press them, I **** them. Thatβs what I have to do. Only that.