--VIII--
A few hours before the sun rose, he woke up and breathed in the jungle air. A few moments later he was straining as much as possible to convert the vague images and emotions of his dreams in his mind into words before he lost them. His hand moved across paper in swift motions as though it was racing against his brain - trying to capture its contents before they vaporized. He stretched his limbs and took a bit of time to recall where he was and what was going on. The reiteration of the knowledge of his surroundings hit him and filled him with a strange mixture of happiness for his miraculous escape and bitterness for the situations that caused him to attempt this escape. It was going to be a beautiful day. 
No comments:
Post a Comment