As many histories told, a shady figure was wandering around in the darkness, entering in the shatters of its mind. As he walks to the grave he seemed to became smaller and smaller. He stood, stared, and then started to walk again.
He was going nowhere. After all he walked he finally realized it. His search was meaningless, his effort, waste. So he stopped and felt lost. When he was walking he knew what was the next step. A right foot was followed by a left foot, which was followed by a right one, and so on, and so on.
But now? He was only wandering around, taking time the only way he knew. He felt out of touch with his feelings, and he was going nowhere, just following its fingers.
Without routine he felt almost outside of the world, he began to lose contact with family and friends. He started to be a shade who patrols dark streets, running of the light.
And when winters is coming walkers hibernate. If he could not walk he would have nothing to do. With nothing to do he will be lost, forgotten in the void. Now it was time for him to stop and think, and think carefully. Sometimes you have to sit and ask yourself.
What can I do now?
Contestaré de modo parecido :P
ResponderEliminarWelcome back routine, make me see where my steps should take me, and do note let me realize I won't get there until it's too late to turn round.
(And welcome back Cid to the world of words and tales)