I had once asked her " What is unexistance, Sam? " a curious expression across her face had formed. The laden strain of thoughts without answers and hope without warrant teasing the limits of what she could define as living and non living. She hadn't said a word but she had smiled. The clouds had been out that day and it were to rain but not yet. The echoing sounds of a screeching too late, the crack of glass and bone and the hollowed thud of a body against the pavement. What had once been Sam were now a huddled form limp upon the black road. As I stared upon the corpse among the others, listened to the sounds of rain against the cracked windshield I stared into the darkness in her eyes. Not in the thing that was once the girl named Sam but the one whom sat in the tree, saddened and watching. " What is unexistance Sam?"
I looked at your image,read your story and the first thing that came to my mind when I went back and looked at your image again was "The Gatherers of Dust". So if it's ok with you I think that's what these two will be for me from now on.
I looked at your image,read your story and the first thing that came to my mind when I went back and
