HE IS AN ILLUSION

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This afternoon a black cloud filled the sky. The air gets cold. Twilight will not be reddish today. Then lonely slowly creeping back his body that had been sitting on the edge of the window. No smile on his lips. His eyes were wistful.
From the eyes of the buildings, the streets and the people vanished. There are only clouds, plants, rocks. In his eyes incarnated a garden overgrown with grass and towering banyan trees. In his eyes, the color disappeared, except black and white, then gray, then gray.

The wind then comes to pick up. Bring a whisper from a quiet sound. The wind came to his face painting a blackish-colored roses. She did not move from the window and let the wind stroke her gray hair. The hair danced with the wind to the silent song he was carrying.

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Rain fell down every inch of the park in his eyes. Bring the smell of the soil and the grass up and mix with the air. He took a deep breath of air, filling his long congested chest cavity. Crowded with boring breaths of polluted urban air, foul smells of garbage, and asphalt that is always crowded by vehicles racing to come and go. He breathed the air from the rain, the soil and the grass greedily. People had disappeared from his eyes, who else needed the air with the rain, the earth, and the grass besides him? She thought.

He took out the air, breathed it again and again. Now her lungs are filled with the smell of rain, soil, and grass. The rose withered on his face blooming again. Her face was not so wistful anymore. Her hair stopped waving. He smiled again.
The roses on her face again wilted. His smile faded. Her hair waved again. The face was wistful again.

Time stopped, transformed into a hand. The hand grasped him. He stood following the hand toward the seconds that went in reverse, the hand handed him to seconds. Seconds took him away into the night. The night is not black and white. The night on the hill beneath which the city's lights were blazing.

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The night the sky was so clear, because the cloud was accompanying the rain in the black and white afternoon. The night is decorated with stars without stars, and because of the night's rays become bathed in a romantic silvery light.

The image on his face manifests into a handkerchief. Then. Tears dripped one by one from his face, then swiftly. Increasingly heavily accompanied by a sad roar. Which makes all night displays duck. One by one the city lights were dead. the moon also borrowed a cloud from the rain and covered its light. The night became perfect. She continued to sob.

Time can not stand hearing her sobbing back into the hands. Trying to wipe her tears with a handkerchief, stroking her hair gently, bending her in the lap of a dark night. She stopped sobbing.
"I want to go home now"
Time takes it back to the window. Reality back, all normal again in his eyes. He got up and when he left.

Thanks to attention..