Altair

The beautiful Altair lives in a country where time does not pass lives. She has a pure and simple soul, with jet-black hair gathered in a crown of poppies and violets, her complexion snowy and clean, like the sunrises; she blushes when she is told that she is loved, innocence takes over her cheeks. Her green eyes, sincere, loving, and noble, direct gaze. Her iris is reminiscent of the northern meadows of the region, where there is no hatred, fear, or hate, and animals graze peacefully, without predators to stalk them or dragons to harm them. Her nose, small, and in a lake of beauty, her pink, fleshy lips, desired by many, and tasted by few, say in the region that a kiss of hers makes one fall in love.

Altair manages that the soul does not detach from the body, bathing naked, in the spring of crystalline water, which borders her abode, in which the fish sing and the water dances to the sound of the crickets flute, anxious for verses, patient for love.

Suddenly, the creaking of the earth becomes latent, and emerges from it, a young man lost among the seaweed of the calm sea, with black eyes, and numb falls asleep on the beach. Altair, nervous, checks the state of her world. It has been disrupted. The animals begin to be devoured; the crystal clear water turns yellowish, the fish no longer sing, they are poisoned with funeral and dead words, Altair is not safe, her world is changing.

She runs terrified towards the colored mountain and prays to Odin so that the picture she has painted with so much care does not become mute on a cut canvas.

The great lord, who listens to everything, tells her that the evil of her paradise is the lack of love she feels for the man lying on the beach and that she can only be saved if she heals the young man's soul with a kiss from his lips. But, in haste, Altair does not utter a word; she knows that time is running out and that her world is turning to ashes, the forests are burning, the rivers are evaporating, her world is simply dying.

She runs towards the beach as if possessed by a torn soul, accompanying him towards his small hut with her arm.

The young man's heart is frozen, and he has only a sigh of life left; she remembers how their love was and how it ended, and she presses the magic kiss to his lips.

Erasing with her mouth the nest of her moles; rummaging through all your places;

pouring the torrent of your seas, he promises to invade your conscience, to give you his experience, and to make you feel his warmth from head to toe.

She will live to weave her tenderness in every molecule of his being, seeking to infect him with her madness, imprisoning every space that inhabits her, infinite cosmos, which inherte awakens with the breaths of life of her orgasms in love with the sound that they leave between a moan and moan, amplifying the perfidious instrument of her bipolar climax.

The young man begins to breathe, to feel, to cry, to thank her for saving him from hell, for there was no worse hell than a world without his love. Altair doesn't say a word, she kisses him and consoles him, and then, the young man says: "I will never fail again, to the goddess who possesses my life." The world returned to color, the green meadows returned, the fishes sang again, and the wind whispered. They, giving life to this landscape, remained fused in a kiss, which lasted for years and years, and turned into stone, awaiting the country, where Altair began to live, knew what it was to die, and was reborn to love and be loved.