Did Tawnee Stone Died

E 'evening, I'm alone in my room. Yes, the one with the cherry red wall behind of the bed. stubbornly conquered from dozens of color shades wrong, but which delights me only when I allow myself to face the dark wood and smooth that there is supports. I light a candle and turn out the light. The Premiere Arabesque Debussy I sing of a world that seems both near and far at the same time, when, some time ago, I opened a new world. And then another and another. I would like to pause for a moment this evening to think of these worlds in a tacky musical silence and lit by a candle that burned in his slow, wise and knows that ancient light. I caress the notes, without asking, who hold firmly to myself, watching as it moves a little to seat a new time conscious of my presence. There are both he and she. Two red cherries. And I wait to write my stories with their light sour and sweet. Sooner or later it does not matter much because the impossible has already happened: I met them.