Dear Phone

Dreaming of winter days
Sweating and watching as the months pass by

Hands adorned with knife cuts
Staying up all night to fulfil a simple dream
Forming new plots and conflicts of interest in the absence of electricity but in the presence of dear phone.

Isn’t it The lamp of a writer?
Doesn’t it let us enjoy the taste of our dreams?

Doesn’t it makes you feel hopeful for future?

A quiet euphoria behind these words.
Feel it.
Around every corner of your life.

A echo of our fantasies.

Winter is coming.

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