the traces of lights reach me differently. the spectrum doesn’t touch me in the same way, it came from an ever-altered angle. it is soft now. the air doesn’t bite anymore. i am smelling clove.
do i see people smile at this sunset-approaching hour? hee hee it’s happy time. yellow lights began to turn on. i’m still here, sitting by the large see-all window. i will remain here, like enjoying watching virtual reality of a gigantic installation. i will remain here, seeing the end of the black-painted stairs. as if… someone is coming?
the coffee. it’s latte this time. soft, embracing your sense of taste. sparing delirium. bitter yet gentle. like sitting on a rocking chair. but i may fell off my four-legged chair, if all of a sudden, you are standing before me.
i’m begging for mercy. if only cold could tell me that i’m merely dreaming. should i close my eyes to create borderless cry? must i challenge both the near and the far?
Picturesque Inda 