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.
Around every corner of your life.
A echo of our fantasies.
Winter is coming.