They say that she went through centuries of mindlessness that all came to halt in simplified moments of passing-by. Autumn showed its magnificent past and went with the rustle of thin air in the backdrop. This is how it went with her life. Her strands of hair remained stagnant among tea smoke and window light and writing desk and fears so many, but the backdrop kept changing, with the blink of her eyes, the rustle of wind from purple clouded winters to magnificent sunny springs and haunting perspiration of summers. . Such were her moments of mindlessness when she was stuck down by lightening, the blow so hard she forgot the time. Was she in the time or was the time in her was the dilemma. The moments of betrayal and utmost pain. The pain that should die one day because it has already pained enough. But then, what else was left in living if not living with the pain of the pain?
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