The moon whitened its teeth while the suns roots passed slowly to the other side of the globe leaving behind trails of unfathomable beauty in colors as if the clouds had a dream and they painted down on the sky ceiling their own feelings, from their own thoughts…
Stars appeared little by little as if the sun were a high school bully and the moon remained there, smiling.
It was cold outside, but it was a sort of cold that he enjoyed.
The cars made a swishing sound while they passed by going from who knows where and who knows why to somewhere else, but their swishing sound, tough not the same, seemed so alike as if there would be only one consciousness behind the wheel of every single car.
There were exceptions, as in any other rule or made up theory, a truck may pass by and left in him the feeling that although he saw the truck going passed him to the left, it felt in such a way that the truck was going actually to the right. It was an odd feeling, that he usually had with trucks, as if those drivers were actually desiring to stay put, as if going way was making them be more close to the place they were going away from.
It was an odd thought to have late at night and in the cold, but there he washed by the light of a street lamp, enjoying the night, enjoying the sounds, enjoying the cold, enjoying his made up story, enjoying the world in its swishing sounds.