When I have read a book, the only thing I truthfully remember is the essence of it. The characters are faded wonder, some to wonder even into my friendship to which with them I came to ponder. This essence clear to me without the need to even reminisce in it. Pulling away from even the thought why reason to feel the norm, how it’s given to see the form. That’s why’s so difficult to understand some action with difference to where each one its own came to be adorn, driven by the idea life is crucial to all fitting into this storm. When the part of the whole resides feeling warm, in any condition. Why’s that some break in the point feeling harm, guided distant from the beginning of the two. Then resides the test to all around, building mind into a cloud that there’s someone actually to be proud. To gain and recognize what some want despise, put down on level of that self demise.
When I have read a book life’s never quick on me to knock me out with on hook, for sorrow wonder is grief beyond tomorrow. Blaming all the stances on what life gave you on your chances. When truly it’s so simple to share what crossed your mind on an instance with knowledge that it’s something you can shut with your persistence. One thing for an instance is the point in which you loose your essence to not realize what’s got ten fold on your mind dances. Getting torn and worn by life’s glances, drive to miscomprehend even your simple stance, why’s my love digging her way out with every lit chances.