We dreamt we were on an island that time forgot, perched on a rocky hillside under a sky of deepening indigo. A sliver of a crescent moon hung like a silver hook, pulling the deep blue sea towards the shore. Below us, a whitewashed church stood silent, its own small sky captured in its blue dome, its bell tower watching over us with hollow arches. We were gathered there on the patio, shadows and whispers, a woman in a black dress a stark figure against the luminous walls. We weren't waiting for a bell to toll or a door to open, but simply existing in the quiet hum of the night, suspended between the rocks below and the infinite dark above.
