on the third floor of a white building,
with a flower crown on her dark hair,
thinking of the smell of her mothers kitchen. like tea steam, like afternoon laughters.
she loved the way sun rays was hitting a wooden table making it so warm,
so vibrant in color.
standing alone while everybody is moving fast in front of her,
but she was not in hurry, she was just lost in her own memory.
8 o’clock.
all the stars were about to come in, all the colors were about to fade out..
and she was still standing, staring at all the frames hanged up the walls,
portraits and stories of all that was known to her,
she just want to forget it all, to live in ignorance, to live in passion over and over again.
