The Storm
Murderers, thieves, and psychopaths populate this area. This dirty downtown is always a muddy mess. Yet it doesn't disguise the evil like the upper-class neighborhoods, always dark and foggy out here. From my window, I could see the city lights in the distance; I can perceive what's going on in those big bright, soaring apartment buildings. They're busy making memories, the friends, the fun, the nightlong gatherings, the long chattering, all seemingly pleasant yet superficial.
A memory is what they live for, you either struggle to make it or die to relive it. Once gone, they endlessly toil for an inevitably futile outcome, trying to grasp a moment in time which has already surrendered to the laws of eternity.
I, with millions of sweetly fragrant fragments from the past,lay here motionless. But this is not something I should dwell upon.
The sky is clouded red; a big storm is going to sweep this place soon, lights went out already. I guess it’s time for some serious coffee brewing. I sit near the small stove; the chilly wind is gushing in,so the heat gives a pleasant sensation. The coffee is here, aromatic notes of vanilla and nuts, coupled with the maddening breeze, making me nervous with pleasure. Sitting on the balcony, I eye the towers once more. Bright lights, they've always fascinated me, when they're at a distance, I always feel like I know what's going behind the tiny sparkles. Each blip of light is one long story. The winds are getting heavier each second, time to head back inside.
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