Self-crushing moisturizing scent
She lays on the sand.
Somewhere along the cobbled paths of memories
Palm trees grows.
Among the thorn bushes
The grunt was growing into limbs.
In the dead mussels scattered on the sand
She felt the agony of sea thoghts,
For a moment, though, she felt like a mussel
The next moment
As if a thrown away dirty towel
Tearing that thought out of her mind
She rose like the sea,
Walked back to life.
Bursts of memories
They were moving their heads again.