A short story

Indian Summer

English translation :

Look this little thing spinning around

not aware of anything

except for her task

of weaving a web 

to survive.

The cat catches our eye

she bows for goodbye

and what shall this one catch?

What she 's wishing for?

Along the golden road

the spider withdraws her web

And I?

I catched 

for you

that moment.

Music : Nocturne in G flat, Frédéric Chopin
Images, words, assembly : DagEnDauw

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