“Slavomira,
I wasn’t asking for anything about you, and yet, YOUR MAIN GUIDE came to me.
In the middle of a session, while I was connected to my own questions, he came to me with a strength I had never felt before.
It was not a simple visit. It was a spiritual emergency.
He delivered a powerful message, a clear call.Because there is something you need to hear before August 6th…”
Your Jenna
Eye scanned the email, discarding it, just like all the others from my friendly “astrologist”- click the link, pay the money and “I’ll helpya”.
The number though somehow still rang the bell, and so eye hit the Google, expecting to see the date of August’s foolish moon, coming up with “an error” of three days.
Smile slowly melted away, perceiving nothing but the numbers deeply known to me, whispering 123.
Leading the fingers to another Google search, and then connecting the dots in my usual insane way-
Yes, it was only yesterday when eye had finally a free afternoon, leaving gigantic sunflowers of Vera’s garden for the first cornfield of this year, winking at the train-tracks attracting the people expecting the trains, chasing there a scent, that of a scorching summer in cool blackberries.
Cut
Morning picture of Emma’s new yellow tracksuits, refusing to leave my mind.
Cut
Tarot reader “confessing” of not liking her very own “strong orange” shadow, which she happened to be wearing, screaming “liar” in my mind that night.
Cut
No Italy was not burnt this year, unlike the previous ones. Anywhere my eye anchored, it got swallowed by the luscious greenery.
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The place, where I was usually staying was taken, hence I was looking at the 6 swallows and their two core shadows, instead of my usual heart tearing quintet of seagulls. Thinking about nothing, but 6
Eye woke to the storm the next day.
Later on eye met sunflowers again, embellishing a trashed tray, lighting up the choking dust of one Italian parking lot, preceding the way to the playground, neighbouring but another field of true corn giants.
Cut
-Ok, your name is Filippo, and my proper name is Slavomira. Slavo mira. Try.
Two soft hazelnuts of one, nearly two, looked at me with all due respect.
-Fiyi minna.
-Filo🙄 Slavomira. Sla vo mi ra.
-Sawka minna.
-I’m Minna?
-Yem!
Cut
Searching for children’s songs on YT that afternoon, YT kept on offering me the video of Mira’s wedding song (where she stops the artificial pull of one liar, and calls out for her dragon). Awaiting the storm.
Cut
In the evening eye remembered it’s the last day to send flowers to my mum, getting lost in the avalanche of virtual sunflower bouquets. Yes, it was simply the season…
of the harvest…of that one had managed to sow…celebrated by those, who “worshipped the spirit”… blooming in yellow, orange, soft greens and a sacrifice…
You see, once eye paused and paid attention, the highest guide was no one but me. Unable to unsee what was to come- the long time awaited “apology” from someone, who believed in his righteously deserved harvest🤷♀️
P.S. as I typed the last emoji instead of a full stop, the bells of Santa Anna gave birth to the Midnite🖤
Eye of the Darkness 
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