Bronze. 
I thought it was more annoying to hear the voice on the phone. On the other hand I think it is easy to continue to live in the rational when it inadvertently has already crossed the line and now it is the other side. However, it is booked, as we needed a weekend away from everything and be satisfied with an unhealthy curiosity, the kind that would be better left unsolved. There is still snow on the trail, we have to leave their cars and walk, he welcomes us smoking a pipe, red fleece jacket and jovial attitude as much as enough. Two rooms, a kitchen with a wood stove and a few old white lacquered furniture and a room where we crowd just sleeping bags and blankets. It shows us where to take the throw from other wood logs, just in case serve, and takes his leave. He has a look and a little more than 'sad. No light, no running water. It's cold, quiet evening passes, we all came here for a reason, nobody wants people to know what. We sit around the table, lighted by a candle light. No one has anything to say. Apparently everyone is looking at his hands, but in reality this is only what is visible from outside. Inside each hand is making a journey back in time, in the folds on the ground that led him to a deserted shack, unreachable from the things that make you feel safe and protected, in the company of other people who do not know. My journey takes longer than others, are slower to walk with memory, when I get to the starting point I decided that the prize will be a last glass of brandy, a bottle found in the corner of a cupboard and escaped some kind of other hardships. My companions are asleep, an unnatural sleep, I suspect. Do not wake up when entering stumble in the dark in the room, do not wake up even when I turn to other candles to light. Simply, do not wake up. That noise was a subtle background for the whole evening now assumes a more precise outline. These are steps. Steps that are similar in snow. There is a liquid and starry sky to drown in and a huge moon and icy landscape lights around the window only the black mass of trees is indistinguishable from the rest of the night, but other things
black firs move slowly through the shadows. The footsteps stop outside the door.
They have arrived.
I thought it was more annoying to hear the voice on the phone. On the other hand I think it is easy to continue to live in the rational when it inadvertently has already crossed the line and now it is the other side. However, it is booked, as we needed a weekend away from everything and be satisfied with an unhealthy curiosity, the kind that would be better left unsolved. There is still snow on the trail, we have to leave their cars and walk, he welcomes us smoking a pipe, red fleece jacket and jovial attitude as much as enough. Two rooms, a kitchen with a wood stove and a few old white lacquered furniture and a room where we crowd just sleeping bags and blankets. It shows us where to take the throw from other wood logs, just in case serve, and takes his leave. He has a look and a little more than 'sad. No light, no running water. It's cold, quiet evening passes, we all came here for a reason, nobody wants people to know what. We sit around the table, lighted by a candle light. No one has anything to say. Apparently everyone is looking at his hands, but in reality this is only what is visible from outside. Inside each hand is making a journey back in time, in the folds on the ground that led him to a deserted shack, unreachable from the things that make you feel safe and protected, in the company of other people who do not know. My journey takes longer than others, are slower to walk with memory, when I get to the starting point I decided that the prize will be a last glass of brandy, a bottle found in the corner of a cupboard and escaped some kind of other hardships. My companions are asleep, an unnatural sleep, I suspect. Do not wake up when entering stumble in the dark in the room, do not wake up even when I turn to other candles to light. Simply, do not wake up. That noise was a subtle background for the whole evening now assumes a more precise outline. These are steps. Steps that are similar in snow. There is a liquid and starry sky to drown in and a huge moon and icy landscape lights around the window only the black mass of trees is indistinguishable from the rest of the night, but other things 
black firs move slowly through the shadows. The footsteps stop outside the door. They have arrived. 
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