TUMBULAR 21

The still of the night, the very still, was when we felt the breeze over the complete silence of the landscape, in the deep calm.  A crystalline sensation hung in the air, like snap-frozen joy and tension that was not yet able to give birth to itself.  The coolness of the air was like a mirror of our souls, reflecting not only what was in us but also more than that, as if there were another level of meaning behind that, which we could barely grasp.   The land as far as we could see was smooth underneath us, like a horse with too much spirit, yet contained at the same time.  We held it all under our control, in the purity of harmony.   A leap, a gallop and a suppressed giggle were all held back.   The nightwas preparing to give birth to day, not randomly but in the way we had imagined it.  We held it under our legs like a horse about to gallop cutting up the green turf in its sensation of remarkable freeness, having been let loose like a torpedo, moving under the surface of the land, where everything turns to liquid except this smooth surface that gazes back at us.