The shades of gray turn black. Lonely and empty sounds of night. Of ships leaving their harbors. The rippled and broken waters of the past. Slowly become less disturbed as the journey fades.
Moments thought as beacons. Are divided into two distinct marks. Little souvenirs that move across a continuum. From the sentimental to mere nostalgia. From something shared into self defined.
The sounds of night amplify. So loudly through the song of loneliness. So resoundingly through the mirror of solitude. Through the strangeness of the movement. From blinding pain to sedate contemplation.
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