Can’t think.
Can’t see through this haze.
Where are you?
I’m alone.
I can’t see.
Can you hear me?
It’s cold.
The smoke’s too thick.
Are you still there?
I am continuously wandering from one place to another, trying to make sense of things and comprehend what my mind allows me to. Though I may remain motionless or conscious. Or I may be having dinner, tea or drinking to the state of drunkeness with friends, I am traveling. I am attached to the realness of what real is, and yet detached and untouchable by the world. Though I am here as tangible as can be, I am not. I am a restless soul trying to find a sanctuary.
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