Rooms For Tourists

A neutral place, without shared memories, a sitting room with sea view where our thoughts fight. The floor is polished, the curtains are flowing, how many stories have finished this way? We turn the page, ready to start over. The silence is white, cold between us, no more sharing, here we are no longer tiedto our past life. Snake men sliding over the sand to the water, we shed our skins, washed of the torture of the preceding hours. Our bags, nothing important, nothing precious since we will leave everything in the rooms for tourists. We turn the page, ready to start over.