Once towards a crazy sea, a sweet little zombie and a queen of drama decided to float away in a BIG paper boat, sailing off towards stories of their own.
They passed fools and kings, ghost figures of past, present and future. Those figures were hunting the queens heart as the sweet little zombie spent time counting the dancing clouds. All skies stained white : they were opaque from oxygen. Through a throat tied tight with a scarf, the truth was stuck somewhere, in the south of the zombie's mouth.
Ok, this story was told long ago, long ago, and we don't really know what it means, but we don't really care, we just like what we hear, so we'll keep on writting this tale.
(To be continued)
2 comments:
We want more!
The story is on hold. Emi
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