When I was younger, I used to know a child. She was always happy, she loved to read books and she was absolutely sure about what she would become when she was an adult: a teacher. She loved children and she wanted to help them to learn a lot of things. She also loved writing and she daydreamed about inventing new stories for them. One day, without warning, she grew up and disappeared. I grew up too and I forgot about her. Today, writing this little story, I have just remembered her. I don’t know

Photos and text, six hands The challenge, with images, HERE They are only stones, cold. They are only holes repeating forever. They are only shadows, black, playing to be people, spying, running away, weeping. And the sea on the background, endless, and the sky in calm. * * * You and me, two windows. I look at you, but you don’t look at me. I am looking, but I don’t watch you. I am looking, I am looking for you… Where are you? In the sky there is a blue stain on a cotton curtain. One brushs