His eyes were blank, except perhaps for the tiny, sharpest fragments of sadness that still pierced through his heart, whenever he gazed through countless memories interrupted.
That was their place, shelter, source. In his mind - an omnipresent womb of raw, unavoidable feeelings. Personal and non-transferable.
A growing angst (or was it fear?) forced him to push the tears back into a bruised chest - one that couldn’t seem to handle the obvious proof of demise; not wanting to give in because there were plenty of exits.
Alas, it was too little, too late. Was there ever a choice? One never would, or ever will, get over things that never were. With all doors slamming shut, came the realization that there was nothing left to learn but everything to experience. He was already hooked - trapped within shades of blue and green, addicted to the sweet embrace of the scarps above and around.
21.08.08
