salim

Seductive wind touches my skin as I'm treading on a far away meadow. It's autumn, the grasses are half dead, and the trees are begging any bystander to help them cover their nakedness. With every step I can hear the shriek of each grass blade, as though trying to stop me to move forward. It's hard to breathe for the long-forgotten aroma is slowly creeping in to my stoned heart and lingering shattered-to-pieces memories. Hidden behind the trees  a  derelicted cottage, our haven once, is calling to embrace me once again. As trees, with their scornful eyes,  watching me trespassing their teritory, I can hardly realize the meant beauty of this place. Trees, flowers, grasses, and even the stars are meaningless here because there is no WE anymore but a lonesome I, and that is absurd here. Oh Lord, why meadows are such cruel avengers?