Ever imagined, a clockwise turn of key opens a door to magic... clearly invisible, exactly felt. Steps further play tunes, melody in left, fock on right, followed vice versa. Someone pulling you in dance, comfortably hold you, teaching every inches politely. The touch is gentle, warmth across flexible, waltz. Surprise is secondary, living that second is only priority. Flower shower in a point, like wings of fan convinced itself to act as cherry blossom tree, petals all over the floor, tunes constantly turned on.
Despite it is within four walls, neither dark seemed dull, narrowed spot took away the space nor furniture tried to touch the skin. Terrifying little insects showcased themselves the prettiest little lives, stupendous in nook and corners — unvisited butterflies turn in hoping to settle and have their honey in peace, stupefied by noticing glorified blossom petals over dim environment. Witnessing these, astonish the inner-self, sceptical to belive. Running back to the door way, paralysed to see the unavailable key.
A visible wand in hand, recollecting the princess world watched all through the childhood, made sense. Misery ran away, certain chance are irrational, can only available in abstract rather than concrete check. So why worry over a missing key, taking the hand of warmth and hold the hand for experiencing my first twirl, encountering a divine fragrance, rest behind a long table, fascinating it as a great wood tree. Wishing this realm continues, key stays gone, by miracles only lovely souls reach this likely zone. Hardly reachable to others which hugs the antonyms of peace.
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