Little pieces. Littered souls. It all became just a little bit easier to feel the sun when seemingly stripped clean. Gripping the roots, growing from the depths of the very same ground that had once entangled everything. Embracing impermanence, everything had begun to change.
It is all existential. Satisfied. Directions. Hundreds of them. The script screamed in bold letters to a hungry crowd. But there was no language. Presence can present itself in unlikely presents. Wrapped in confusion. Tied with a bow, disguised as complacency. Content? At the end of the sentence, punctuation made all the difference.
A suitcase of potential. Blonde hair wrapped tightly. Confined. Raw emotion, buried neatly between the beats of a disquisitive heart.
Novel excerpt. 2/16/12