(no subject)
oh this journal used to be magic.
"where has it gone?" - is the right question to ask, but since the answer might be too trivial, thy humble servant has no guts to expose it to the public.
which is another point to admit - there is no public, nor has this tiny piece of web ever intended to be open to. it's the trails, you see. the trails to understand the tough world and its people and their behavior, including my own.
here i am, sitting in lisbon. came here because it was the only place on earth i could have some rest, and shelter, - my mom's. and it's raining and raining and raining. no need to give a verbose account to the ramblings along the shore - they're worth of much more - say, a picture, a song, or a movie. but i am riddled with thoughts full of vacuum.
don't want to be hollow
don't wish just to follow
you, blindly,
but to walk with you
and not through you
nevermore
no more endings
please...
"where has it gone?" - is the right question to ask, but since the answer might be too trivial, thy humble servant has no guts to expose it to the public.
which is another point to admit - there is no public, nor has this tiny piece of web ever intended to be open to. it's the trails, you see. the trails to understand the tough world and its people and their behavior, including my own.
here i am, sitting in lisbon. came here because it was the only place on earth i could have some rest, and shelter, - my mom's. and it's raining and raining and raining. no need to give a verbose account to the ramblings along the shore - they're worth of much more - say, a picture, a song, or a movie. but i am riddled with thoughts full of vacuum.
don't want to be hollow
don't wish just to follow
you, blindly,
but to walk with you
and not through you
nevermore
no more endings
please...