“I’ll always stand against the iron brass gate, the same gate which is laden with tiny rusty starks and thin lines of forgotten memories. I don’t wake up for dawn. I just don’t sleep the whole night for my nights are always spent pondering and over-thinking. Sometimes, while I stare at the singular white threads of light and mist I wonder if there’s something more.
And, I see that extra when a bus with loud music drives by. It’s the glitter of that moment. It’s the slight glaze of a more sporadic and a more spontaneous joy.
It’s like the gleam of a sparkling diamond. A diamond, which is a secret to me. An oasis or a mirage, what can I say? ”