Stranger

A Stranger

It was strange to smile for at a stranger's message when that he had no idea of his face, but somehow he knew the shape of his soul.

My soul was kindle with the sound of a message. Each of them formed a fantastic melody for listening.

The better melody to go into the world of dreams, and there I discovered it. He was not a stranger because I knew him; we had met in one of them.

At best of dreams, each minute and second was fascinating. Was a whirlwind of feelings, peace, nostalgia, melancholy but each complemented joy.

T

ime can be as short as long when you meet a stranger, but when that time is taken advantage of for you, stop it with a greeting, with a kiss, or when you say goodbye.

Suddenly you realize that he is no longer a stranger. It is a memory the best of them in the hope of seeing each other again, even if it is alone in a dream.