“Remember thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return.” Genesis 3:19
The air has a texture thick and hot in my nose that my lungs cannot accommodate. I kick for the surface but fabric is a far sight thicker than water. - I am too young to be wrapped up in this where minute’s click seems a loss and getting older, no gain. - I am frightened, but everywhere I turn I hear shades whisper “Such is life…” and nothing more. - For our skins are our shrouds And we are born in our burial cloths.