A Flying Object

This Isn't An UFO But Just Some Kind Of Flying Object My Spouse Couldn't Identify. 

My husband is such an amazing guy, he always sees things no one can detect. During summertime we live in a small house on the beach.
Last night he left the house to watch the stars. I stayed inside and observed the dancing fire of candles, and the shadow of my body casting the image of a giant on the wall.

After some time my husband came back in and he looked pale around his tinted nose when he said: "I saw something remarkable in the skies. A colored light that spun in circles, and then it became smaller and thinner and it faded out. Next it started all over again. This happened three times, until it disappeared completely."

"What was it?" I asked.

"I can’t tell," he answered still lightly confused.

"Listen, do you mean you saw an UFO?"

"You know I don’t believe in UFO’s."

"Okay, then what was it?"

"How could I tell?" he added, "it was just a flying entity I couldn’t categorize."

"O my God, you saw a UFO," I said out of breath.

He looked at me puzzled. "Don't tell me you really believe I saw an UFO."

"Well, it sounds like you saw one…"

"Okay, I agree it sounds like that," he said after some time, tapping his lips with his fingers. "But you know what, woman? Things aren’t always what they seem."

"Did you check the dunes?" I asked with a voice deep of hope for some mystery in my life.

"What should I check the dunes for?"

He closed the door of the beach house and smiled at me friendly.

"For circles of course. Aren’t there any circles in the dunes, or symbols? You know what I mean? Strings of DNA in the grass, shaped by aliens. Or cryptic codes from outer space that only Dan Brown can crack one day?"

"O damn, now I understand what you’re talking about. You mix the idea of dune circles up with rye circles," he said. He beamed relieved. "But no one ever reported circles in dunes, honey… Don’t break your skull about stupid things like that."

"I see," I said disappointed. "It probably wasn’t a UFO then, right?"

"That’s what I said," he continued, sighing. "It was just a flying object I couldn’t identify. No more, no less… Let’s get some sleep now, okay?"

Composed In The Pasture Of Your Skull

I Am The One Who Shot These Horses 

Where do we go? Where is the road we’re taking? What did you say? Did you say something? Shut up for a second, OK? What are words? Give me a break, man. You see that large meadow over there? Here: look outside my window for a second. You see a grazing land. A paddock, but I mean an endless one. You see the horizon? But there is no horizon, baby, just something hazy in a distance. Use your imagination. This talk is about a solid ground with hovering mist above it, and eleven stationary horses. The horses are starving, and composed in the sub-zero pasture of your skull. They are ice covered horses. White and glistening with frost. Dutch beasts with huge legs. No one feeds them. Their mantra is a bursting gasp. Can you hear them? Those horses over there, with black eyes that gaze into you. Do you see them?

You hear them and you see them, don’t you?

Well, they aren’t there. They are nowhere but in you. This Blog is nothing but a goddamn apparition.