Every glass of water, every pencil, every opened book I leave behind is a promise that I will be back again. While memories fade, objects are the anonymous proof of my presence until they are moved. Perhaps someday when I no longer can retrieve what I left behind, someone else will use them and make a promise to themselves.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
A few sentiments
ПоезіяEverything is in shambles, but that's just how it is with nonsense writings. It contains (very) short stories, poetry, and just words in general that are strung together and might or might not hold some meaning. Basically anything my sleep deprived...
