Donna

The moon desired the woman. Every night she flew over the sky and scanned the far land, the villas, the gardens and the streets. In the end, she always found her in the same position: resting on the chimneys, on the tiles of the roofs, while exchanging her gaze.

It dreamed the woman’s knowledge, her skin so much like its own candor, the mystery that her human being inspired. She admired her from sunset to dawn and, at every cycle, it tried harder to reach her, never succeeding.

One night, flying over the sea, it saw her there, in the middle of the ocean. She stretched from the prow, tensing his arm on the water, which was white as white was her reflection on the surface.

At that moment, it was certain, it felt the touch of the woman, a slight tickle, and the feeling that something of that girl had finally been granted. It lasted for a moment, but it was enough: when the moon returned, it found a pearl and ivory ring of rare beauty that held stories of the soil, the cities, the smiles and the thousands secrets of the men.