She was standing still, just like I was.
Her hair swaying in same wind as yesterdays.
Everything was white
The only exception being the crater.
That was black and a grey gradient.
Apart of her skin the same gradient three or four metres
Coming down from that crater.
It took me some time.
I didn’t want to believe that I couldn’t reach for her
And if I did, she would be cold.
If she wasn’t made of material,
Could I feel her warmth?
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 6:03 PM UTC
She was standing still, just like I was.
Her hair swaying in same wind as yesterdays.
Everything was white
The only exception being the crater.
That was black and a grey gradient.
Apart of her skin the same gradient three or four metres
Coming down from that crater.
It took me some time.
I didn’t want to believe that I couldn’t reach for her
And if I did, she would be cold.
If she wasn’t made of material,
Could I feel her warmth?
The untouchable, something always out of reach.