Life is as fragile as a dream. Are we living in the subconscious of our minds, our memories or our wishes? Is this the life that we live for? That we truly see as ours. It's not just the air we breathe that's the same, or how we speak, it's the movement that keeps our stories whispered when we're gone.
Is the darkness something that we're scared of? The fear of the unknown or just the loss of innocence hidden in the colour of pain. Yet the lightness holds grace. Something we are never afraid of as it never crawls upon us. Do we just see life in black and white? Is this life as it seems?
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