She lost herself
into the darkness worshipping both the magnificent and terrifying sense of
solitude.
She was lucky
enough to have survived the profuse vibes of the mystic river that was
calling her to discover the lands of sorrowful unknownness where nothing really
existed anymore. She was very close to give it all away. She was very close to
vanish herself with the last call of mourning and grief. And as she unfolded
the buttons of her moth-eaten cardigan, a soft breezy wind with a scent of the
river meadows caressed her paralyzed with fear face. She let herself be swirled
into the comforting feeling. She thought she would burst with the passionate
and smothering mystery, wondering and then muffling the truth of the existence
of such. She then realized, it is too early to
die..
