Pablo, Spring

Have you ever felt so incredibly threatened at a place where it was once felt so safe and free? Not knowing what exactly happened but you knew, you were some sort of estranged. There was a lot of fears, hidden in plain sight but steady at its core. You were not you anymore, but then again, who knew which one was you? Is it you are you now or it was you then? Too many questions, no one is keeping record.

But you were here still. Distracted at its best by the smallest screen yet with the greatest power and you always kept looking for whatever it is that would keep you idle- but most of all away from the uncomfortableness being on your own, with your once beautiful but turns poisonous thoughts. Everything else is gone with a scroll of a thumb, it is now your magic wand. I thought Harry Potter isn't real?

Pablo Neruda once said, you can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming. Is it true? What if the gardener took the whole soil away, and replaced it with marbled floor where you can see your own reflection and take a picture and post it and get like; where shall the flower grow then? Whose responsible for all this mess? But is it really the time to point a finger? Oh, I cannot wait for Spring to come!