There’s a story for the psychiatrist. And a story for the psychotherapist. And then there’s a story for the parents. There’s a story for acquaintances, and one for closer of kin. And then there’s a story untold.
It’s a post-apocalyptic, war-torn-humanity sort of scenario. We’re forced along a mountainous path. There are no side paths; it’s a one-end, dead-end road. And it ends with a dozen of them. They’ve been awaiting us all along. There’s nowhere else to go, no other paths to take. So I keep walking until one of them […]
Two-word words waste, waste, waste that time one-word sigh.