[ years, months, minutes—time has lost its value the longer reality stretched. it's gone so far as to become surreal, senseless, dull, yet lightning never rests. her mind is never stationery, like her feet, her sword, and her spirit.
the question is: is there anyone else that is the same?
shouta, january.
the question is: is there anyone else that is the same?
is there anyone that remains? ]