There is inevitably a time for each man when his world spins so quick it appears to stand still; when voices of his peers become white noise; and when hurt becomes romaticised with the lack of renewed passion. These are the days when sky seals shut, and the days no less the nights are sanctioned for tears. These are the days when shadows don’t form along the walls, for the light at the end of the corridor is meek and small. These are the mornings when wake comes just before the dawn drowns the shock from the sudden sobriety that the very thing one adores has become his affliction. When the answer for sanity is to put aside desire, embrace reality and wait on time. Continue reading →