The picture
Cars passing across at blinding speeds…Lights across my face, 
painting a strange and sad picture. I stand in the middle of traffic. I cannot move. I cannot speak. Everything around me revolves so fast that I can barely catch on to a glimpse of sense. There’s no one to save me now. I get carried away by the deafening shriek of rabid time. They forgot to tell me how to step ahead. This is the start line. This is the finish line. It all comes down to this. And it’s just like in a dream, when you can’t speak, where it’s impossible to move. Impossible to move on. Stuck in this… I don’t know what. So what now? Where does the line take me? Where are all the answers? Where is the place where I belong? Seems to me that I don’t fit in this picture anymore. The colors have faded. The edges are ripped off. Someone’s face has vanished and now there’s no sense in this. It’s funny how I never felt the cold all winter long and now I’m cold all the time. No one has the time to try to figure out what could make the picture smile again. There was sun in the background, there were dreams, there was hope and smiles. I can’t let go of the picture. I keep staring at it endlessly. And the worst is that…I don’t want to take another one…
