Alonzi, mezami!

good things come to an end as they say. terrible things are said to drag on accompanied by only misery and consumption. However the owls do only see at night, while the crickets chime a lOUd in sweet symphony and the evening breeze sweeps over the barefoot adventuring feet of companions and lovers. The redolent musk of oak trees and grass tainted skies fills anew. The time grows near, as the children sit on their windowsills reading their books, writing their stories, and acceppting the unacceptable. Change is on the horizon, as it was carried in with the winds from the west, it will be carried out with the winds of the north. People come. People go. Memories are the ties that keep our minds adrift. The wooden people that we ve come to be these past four years are merely tremors in our lives as real people. It is my belief that surviving a hell such as this, filled with whispered words and trauma harpies, is enough preparation for any creature to survive out there. What is out there? Are we ever truly to know? Anything is worth exploring when you havea second soul to discover them with you.