5:47AM The sun rises again. Everything should be so simple. So perfect. It is. In a twisted perfect way.
I am afraid of the cold unromantic city .. scared of returng, of all the speechless white commotion, of cold places, of all the familiar faces, of mornings and evenings, of nights spent in a screechy old bed.
I am serene in my own bell jar.. A few more days.. A few more breaths of slow warm air..
I ask myself only one thing - will she still be true?
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