Foresight
It was morning. Pale, saturated and clinically white.
The cold wind washed the hair from his face and his lips were crispy and still.
The man looked away. He actually didn't know where to look at.
It was so fresh and beautiful outside. Peaceful.
His lungs were purified and the nostrils clean to receive the smell of icy water.
Having breakfast in the snow is like playing cards with fairies. Too surreal yet so dearly imaginative.
Turning forty-three makes you wonder where to stand right now.
And here he was - alone and wondering with his mind in the middle of nowhere.
Nothing changed in this land afterall.
His boots were well-firmed in the ground. Vertical and tight.
Eyes staring into oblivion, gazed from within.
He was a traveller with a cause but without destiny
Where are we heading to?
The cold wind washed the hair from his face and his lips were crispy and still.
The man looked away. He actually didn't know where to look at.
It was so fresh and beautiful outside. Peaceful.
His lungs were purified and the nostrils clean to receive the smell of icy water.
Having breakfast in the snow is like playing cards with fairies. Too surreal yet so dearly imaginative.
Turning forty-three makes you wonder where to stand right now.
And here he was - alone and wondering with his mind in the middle of nowhere.
Nothing changed in this land afterall.
His boots were well-firmed in the ground. Vertical and tight.
Eyes staring into oblivion, gazed from within.
He was a traveller with a cause but without destiny
Where are we heading to?
