Scribbling
Tragedy of Wanderer:
“There are moments which are closer to us more
than the others, the music which speaks to us more than others, the night which
are sacred more than others and few of those words which appear be the savior,
the only one every time we look up to all those words in thesaurus. What could
it tell us about ourselves, he always wondered. Does it mean we are more like
ourselves at certain moments or it just we celebrate pour exaggerated self at
certain moment more than other. This conflict between different aspect of the
self was what started to diluting his glasses while he desperately tried to get
drunk only to find himself more and more vulnerable and at the mercy of gods,
gods he had decided not to romanticize anymore while he prepared himself to
rival them. He felt as if begging to words such as longing, solitude, darkness,
void, abyss, the night, Oh… begging them to come forward and accept his meek
proposition and all he could find were a few of scattered adjectives and prepositions,
all in front of a trail of ruins which could have been a castle of words…Alas!
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