• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 01
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Life, thus far, has been a series of long drawn goodbyes, lived in a constant state of departure. Life blows hearts to bits like dandelions, and we wear sadness like our skin. The night after all is just the sky turning over in its sleep. And somewhere in time, we exist.
I am not a very religious person. Lord knows I am guilty of having not wanted to be alive. But I do believe in rebirth. I turned twenty this year but I have always felt ancient. I probably died an old, old man in my previous life and I have carried that age with me. I feel most antique when I am standing in the rain, as if I had just been born - wet, dripping and alive. As my eye liner disobeys all boundaries, I am wide awake in the world of the dead. I see another life but it is a nostalgia for the tedious. It has been centuries of existence now and nothing has changed.

Life still blows hearts to bits like dandelions and we still wear sadness like our skins. The night is just the day imprisoned in a restless sleep. And somewhere in time, we exist.