Love is not found anymore in the simplest words of redemption, but is advertised on big shiny screens of constant interaction… It is proclaimed to be the destination of all orchestrations and guaranteed with atomic precision.

It is lost and forgiven by time as a prodigy child, continuously searching to bury the cruel memory of not being felt by growing up in a house full of light.

But no tears are to be shed across this faded path of non-communication, it is our silence that brings the best storms to feed the deserted flowers.