the sun disappeared behind a different curtain each week. soft laughter of the day and focus for the morning accompanied your thoughts when you fell asleep. friends and places changed, and suddenly it’s just you. but then you think it’s just perfect the way it is – the way it’s supposed to be. a story of crying alone in your room and finding escape in her whisper at night, when all that mattered was the two of you underneath the moon.

there opened a secret chamber with an idea, just one, that possessed you until you conquered it. the ocean never felt that free before, the sand under your feet kept a million memories. there is identity, right in the act of creation. when you’re running, there is just now and here, all other constructs disappear like the sun behind the curtain in just another town.