Étiquette : illustratedcycle

Fryx feels something rising.

Too fast. Too strong. Too everywhere.

It climbs up his arms, into his stomach, all the way to his throat.
His filaments twitch in every direction,
as if they’ve decided to live without him.

His feet tap the ground.
His hands grab everything.
A stem, a stone, a flower, then another.

He laughs for no reason.
Then he sings something — anything.
Not a song. Just noise, breath, life spilling over.

Around him, buds burst open.
Stems shoot up too fast.
Flowers open almost all at once.
Around him, life was moving too fast to be peaceful.

He wants to run, to climb, to build, to start again.
He puts things together wrong.
He tears them apart. He replants. He starts over.

He stops for a second.
Not because he decided to.
Because even he surprises himself.

Then it starts again. Again. And again.

— Sënka_

Spring has returned.

No one asked for his opinion.

The snow is melting. Not all at once — slowly,
like something that did not want to leave,
but is leaving anyway.

The stones reappear.
The earth smells different.
The air has changed texture.

Fryx stands there, in that cold turning mild.
His filaments catch something.
His flowers open — he did not ask them to.
His stems reach upward without him noticing.

Something pulses.
Something warm, wide, enormous.
Like everything melting outside
is releasing something inside him too.

Around him, the trees remember.
Buds appear everywhere.

And Fryx… Fryx laughs.
Without knowing why. Without trying to understand.

His feet can no longer keep still.
The whole world feels like it belongs to him.

— Sënka_