[ IP ] Miranda Castle , Belgium

Through the corner of one eye, shadows, sleepy and gloomy raced each other caressing the damp algal walls. Through the other, feverish dreams danced the landscape of frozen time. A finger through the dust of hundred years of solitude touched the veins of a sleepy giant. A touch where a touch was lost, of people whose stories untold, in eternal limbo in the dream that the castle dreams. A foot on the bosom, the outlines of it in the cold hard stone embroidered with unfathomable patterns. The castle sighs in pleasure. Of untold loneliness, only the trees could fathom, their bodies intermingled in perpetual kindness, singing in unison in the wind, in the rain. The enormous hallways echoed with silence, a music lost to understanding to untrained ears. The air smelled like time itself, like the crippled yellow pages of an old book. The texture similar to the book, coarse yet sublime. There are lessons etched in every brick, the mortar mixed with the blood of old, stories told in every corner and hallways, all waiting patiently. It's time.
