Three sisters

The time of their lives flows in one direction, yet their dreams drift elsewhere. A path leading to nowhere. Words dissolve beneath the weeping power of their souls, grey, like looming thunderclouds. Today, as yesterday, as a year ago, nothing will change. The soul bursts out of the chest, splitting in two. Everything loses its colour: clothes, skin, dreams… only the pounding, pounding, pounding, pounding remains.

Out of sheer defiance, like in childhood… a persistent variation of a theme of beauty fading into nothingness.