The breeze…

This is just an imaginative piece I wrote now. Nothing to do with me, hopefully –

I was walking alone, so full of confidence and righteousness and then a gentle breeze touched me. It swept inside me and took me by surprise. I enjoyed the feeling and I felt like I was on top of the world. Soon I realized the breeze would not stay with me for long. It found a better host, a host so simply great that I felt like a piece of mold that had grown on the side of the world’s most beautiful painting. The breeze decided to leave me and my own breath yearned to follow it. There is a belief in our parts that a man (or woman) holds the first gasp of air he breathes in his body until he dies and then lets it out and this is called the soul. Maybe the breeze can only be touched by my soul and I would give up on that too if I could be with it.

I will love her on my last breath and every breath until then…

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