being trapped in the silence sometimes takes you to the deep zone of reminiscent.
recalling old memories, feels like paper in th water; slowly soakin and drownin.
my memory stops on the empty scene; The wind blows into my head, filled with scent of past blows on an empty scene.
The world is just like yesterday’s. And time flows.
But it’s only me that’s different.
My futile wishes that the wind has scattered... sorrowfully disappears.
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