While soaking the February sun in my cold bones, I think of possibilities.
I hear the sparrows chirp on my house's rooftop, but I also worry about the ominous fumes rising from a factory nearby.
This is also an analogy for my life.
I question if my imagination runs a bit too wild or if I trust my ideas too less?
I am unable to feel completely happy, but I cannot sink into sadness just yet.
I wonder what to choose, hope or despair?
I am hanging somewhere in the middle, in the web of possibilities, both good and bad. I am searching for answers to questions that nobody can answer for me.