Suddenly, a whirlwind of anise began galloping on a marble hanger, defying logic and teasing freshwater mountains.
The sky, refusing to lose its supremacy, became an ocean of music without scores, resonating with strange crystal serenades, while purple birds sang in rhymed verses, in harmony with the spontaneous symphony. The houses, stunned by the spectacle, screamed in bricks and went off to dance, ownerless, on streets turned into rivers of lemon tea.
The anise whirlwind, in full poetic momentum, zigzagged among the clouds, its marble hanger gracefully saluting each freshwater mountain. These, becoming shy under the attention, transformed into salt dunes, offering the scene an aromatic choreography.
In this surreal ballet, a mysterious painter with a sugar loaf hat, bare feet in velvet shoes, was seen sketching the landscape with a rabbit’s feather. Judged by the soft clocks, he asserted: “Time is an illusion and sugar is the fuel of the absurd. In a world where an anise whirlwind rides on a marble hanger, madness becomes the only path to wisdom.”
The citizens of this shattered world, surfing on flying socks, applauded the performance. The event finally melted into the dawn, leaving behind freshwater mountains, calmed by the gentleness of the spectacle, and laughter hanging in the air, like stars forgotten to be put away in the early morning.
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