Get in the row or pass by

Taken by surprise she didn’t get much time to think. She had to act that very instant. It was very hot and those little drops of sweat started to go on their own road. They traveled across the fine strings of hair, which, controlled by a rude commandant, who liked to scratch and penetrate the skin, gathered in a convex formation, building up the left “wing” of the lively composition. One by one the threads led the drops to the next stop, a huge valley yet with smooth, velvety, rosy, cranky, busy, lit, shadowed curves. They had a huge luck those little things of salty water. Even if she thought that their mother was the sea and the father oceans it selves, they were young as the night that was near to come if she didn’t make a decision now, and on that huge area, covered with different geological secrets that waited anxious to be discovered, it was a great possibility for any of them to be chosen the one to get lost or worse to get into the system by contemplation. Like a mortuary trip where no-one is allowed to sing any of those strangely boring and inappropriate songs, the dropsy nopsies continued their “research” reaching a mammoth arrangement. It was the supreme conquest they might have made. Regrouping was in its course of appearance. Dropsy by dropsy exercised its personal tricky move: the coconut beat, the butterfly getaway, the goat in the jungle, the mummy reaching for water. All these they learnt while watching the threads of hair in the alignment being taught by their Comandante(that’s how those little ungraceful, plunging structure of keratin cells and many others, liked to call him). In the battle with the gargantuan enemy, all the moves were required, yet the conquest was never made. Many soldiers were bumbling in the lost of sodium chlorate, which escorted them to the ever peaceful demise. Massacre brought to the system, which received actually quite well the humble submission.
With her face clean she now had to speak up.