today's dreams are another's tomorrow

  Before i begin i want the reader to remember that this could transpire into waking life before your eyes!
Way back before research goes: amongst the ruins of ghost peoples... inside the blood that passes generally, every generation, she wanders around the plaza del arbol where there is a tree.
And beyond she spies, in the age of might, coming on a colour of spice, and shadows spliced with shattered glass, and vases of porcelain like her doll face, a man that claimed the morning as his own and waked before he could wake up again...
dance the waves of ocean plaza del arbol spiced with men flavour and doll's wings that thunder the helicopter day and the windows blow inwards glass flies.
to be continued...