The savour of fruits still remains in my mouth, but the bitterness of words demolishes the clouds and wrings the snow counting the pebbles. But you never told me why you deceived me,
The fireplace was eager to put a fullstop, in the sentence where the road of my dreams stuck upon the word of happiness with sparkles of wet logs I collected from the inside of me
Snow-covered mountains, ancient monuments, a north wind that nods to us, a thought that flows, images imbued with hymns of history, words on signs with ideals of geometry.