The Birth of a Myth

mahalo for the incentive

His gaze set on the horizon.

The sun had now been slowly approaching that which so many of the great thinkers had once called "the edge of the world", the horizon, for several minutes now...
approaching it at an acute angle like a stone hurled towards the serene waters of a fictitious lake by the hand of a fictitious child...
for a moment he, just as that child, wondered wether the Sun would, just this once, skip off the horizon, rising magically back up into the sky, or if it would plunge into the earthen waters, extinguishing itself and leaving everyone in darkness.

His eyes now resembled those of a madman.
A pair of round pupils seeing but without looking.
Eyes that give away nothing of what the bearer is thinking.
He was simply observing and nobody knew (not that it mattered), not even he, that few people, or animals for that matter, had lived sunsets and sunrises as intensely as he did now.
The perfect observer.

- p...

He thought he heard someone whisper his name yet he needn`t turn around to know the voice had come from inside and that here, now, in the limbo between day and night, no-one would be calling for him.

days of fasting caused the senses to conjure the sweetest of aromas and the most exotic of tastes, days of silence induce the winds into speaking in the most melodic of voices