breakfast

I can’t remember a time when magik wasn’t in my life. The breakfast table full of colorful fruits and plates mismatched with endless patterns of fiery flowers. Breakfast is still the heavy meal in our home, in those mornings of my childhood my mother told her dreams to my great grand mother. An old Crone sitting in the wooden chair like the artist that she was, she used to take my mother’s puzzles and unravel them on the table. We tell the tales of the buried thoughts through the images of our soul. We paint our dreams, we are artist of the world within. There Ix Chel was born in the smallest universe, one of many in this world, were dreams can foretell the future or give us an insight to our intricate mind. A universe where all that’s around us is good, evil and alive. I left my home a while ago… but still there are some mornings when I call my mother to tell her my dreams…