Life can get awfully clogged up with a million little bits and pieces. I'm learning that it's important to find space between each and every one of them to make time for ... well, this. Just this.
The landscape was cloaked by a distant fog. A shrouding that suppressed the sound. Any sound. You could whisper your secrets or shout your frustrations, the answer would still be the same.
It created a nothingness to step into. A momentary pause. A breath. A space only splintered by the sharp bark of cold air.
But, although the cold may bite your face, the wind may pierce your bones, your hands may be numb and throb with the loss of blood; you remember those days where you lay trapped.
Constricted by the whole word and your own skin.
And you dreamt so desperately of feeling that hard kiss of fresh air on your skin.