Making Rabbit Water System

(O advocacy of pearl soap)

.

... they say he died just before the time - your time - stops. And all I lived parades through your pipes in a second ... A second dense and elastic as the gummy resin of certain trees. As the Great Gum whose initial explosion led to believe that galaxies and planets. A second entirely different from your other seconds. Yourself because it expands with your breath like a soap bubble. A second life takes your breath floating in a bubble. On the surface soapy that bubble have a second to read your life. For death is the girl behind - and you've just noticed - that in a hand holding a small bucket of suds and between the lips, a straw.

... with puffy cheeks inflate the bubble next breath ...

You have a second. The glass bubble returns your face on a surface of shimmering transparencies. With both hands trying to escort your bubble in his brief walk through the air. Your fingers close but not touching it. Follow it, but no longer run. In goes your breath, the last. Temporarily trapped in the spherical walls of soap and water. You know that the slightest touch will make it explode into thousands of tiny fragments. Your hands sweat to the inevitable. The fate of all soap bubble is disintegrating. And this has been more than an apology shortly cosmic our flight. Almost

spoil that moment. Do not contemplate your face while on the liquid surface breaks. The leak of Freon. Your face fragmented into millions of other faces ... they were and they have been. Your body made soap, made bubble. Made pomp sailing knee who dreams of you towards the horizon of his eyes, when the bath. He-She - no matter - believe see you at the froth that crossed his eyes as he stooped to pick up the soap from the floor.

... you in your bubble burst and drown you in the pores of the breeze. The windows open air one second to let them penetrate. Already across the air ... ... it is now impossible to follow the conductor's baton of the orchestra falls into the girl's hand holding the bucket with suds ... instruments disintegrate into millions of particles ... a second later ... I

I should be dead