Common Ground

In a familiar roadway to lucidity, the story started with the mission to visit the dogs from the houses around, to check their substance. The vehicle I was driving with an unknown companion moved gently, feeling the beautiful contact with the street. It was such a dark autumn night, the leafless pine trees with the mountains from afar were occupying the rest of the blue. It was very quiet, even the engine of the vehicle was mortified of its sound-making.

The houses were easy to find. The lights were exposed in a distance before its actual closeness. I halted the engine and went out of the vehicle. Knocking on the door, the environment tensed, expectant of the meeting that was about to take place. A receiver opened the door and there behold two dogs. Both were of different breeding, as the other one was being hugged by the owner. We greeted the dogs with glee. The meeting was well-processed.

The entirety of the journey was almost reiterated. The cases were sensitive in its severity.

In time of sleeping, the devil blues appeared, disintegrating the loyatly sense of what transpired. Without knowing how to play the guitar, the blues it offered made no sense. While testing the terrain through my feet, it was a disappointment.