Kopfkino

Song was what they called it. The ones before us could hear it they say. I wonder sometimes,  How must it feel to hear .  To reach in and, Entwine my soul with another creation of god. The ancestors tell tales I don't understand.  Tales of songs, Songs of the waters of the rivers, And the branches of the trees. Songs of beings with no face nor limb. I wonder, What is the colour of their souls, The rivers, rocks and the earth. What do they sing about? What was nature's great symphony. But alas, we are now cursed men.  Robbed of the charm of song. "Do not lose hope little one." they say. Hope to maybe rekindle this forbidden art? but I, I don't know to hope like they do. We spend our days in regret,  Of the sins of our forefathers who've left us cursed, Plunging our arms into the earth, Trying to reach out for something long forgotten. Tremors and vibrations are all that's left, Like a ruinous monument of the past. A dying goddess, and her last breaths, ech...

Why must I leave?  If this place I'm going to is as nice as you say.  I'm already there. But I know, everything will be okay.  I remember the days when the rumbling of the skies made the ground shake. Still, everything was okay because you'd tell me so. And you sang to me as I snuggled into your lap. I'll remember the memory of a sunset golden, glittering in the moist grass as my paws chase a lone blue butterfly. By my side, your comforting voice of bliss, warmer than the sun itself. I'll remember chasing your feet every summer noon, and sinking into your arms while we lay in the green meadow by the little hill. All out of breath. I'll carry the memories of the golden sun, the soft embrace of your hands and the voice I call heaven. And when I go, I'll have known that I was your good boy every moment of my life.  Till the very end. ~Klaus W.S 20-8-23

Audio tracks add to the reading experience.  (They are mood synced. Press play when they appear.) Setting down his book on the table, Malcolm rocked the spoon back and forth in his cup of earl grey, stirring up the contents before he took a long deep sip with closed eyes.  The shadows cast by the nearby buildings marched forth inch by inch into the little cafe tucked into Piazza di Santa Croce, 14. He shifted his little stool to face the window and sipped away at his tea. The vapours of which rose like clouds of cotton in the dying sunlight.  It bothered him to not know where everyone on the street was headed. Every pedestrian outside seemed to walk with such a sense of purpose and determination as if they would perish if their feet touched the pavement another second. Unless one stopped to notice each person’s face and gait, there was no real difference at all. Just cold pillars of such determination wandering aimlessly on the streets. One went left. Two went right...

Inspired by the world of 'The Last of Us' Audio tracks add to the reading experience.  (They are mood synced. Press play when they appear.) “Is it gonna be a long hike today?”  “Yeah. I’m afraid so” said Joel, securing his backpack’s strap tightly. “Aw man I should’ve picked up a few more of those candy bars from that gas station, I’m getting tired of this canned slop. How do you even eat this stuff raw?” “Kid, I’ve driven throughout the country surviving on just these. You’ll get used to them. Tent goes in your bag today. Try to keep up.” The morning sun peeked through the conifer branches and shone brilliantly through the morning mist. The lone moist forest, a tranquil blanket of green, and in it, not a single soul except the duo of Joel and Ellie, making their way up the hillocks and down the valleys. “You see this stream? There’s probably a lake nearby.” said Joel as he pointed out at the trickle of water lined by smooth pebbles. “The water’s so clear though!” “Well…....