Critical, creative and digital writingEcriture critique, créative et numérique

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10 2016  


There are some days I cannot sleep, I cannot live, I cannot breathe. During these days I live in a maze of memories. I reminisce. I'm always tempted to find the easy way out, but too often I fail and end up lost in my thoughts. There's no clearing in a maze of thoughts. There's no exit in a labyrinth of the mind. There's only a fuzzy sense of helplesness that creeps up on me as I find myself breathless. So when the sun shines high and lights the way out, I hesitate no more and run like the wind and fly like a flake towards the ground until I land and vanish in dreamdust on a child's shoulder at midnight.