1994.

while winter crawling to its end, slowly farewells preparing the parties.
and it's not about a changing year.


a white winter is a best possible time to end things, and to start others in queue. not spring. because spring definitely is a better time to build a connection. to understand more. to fall in love, to fall out it. to catch the falling cherry blossom petals before the ground. with loved ones, on a checkered table cloth of blue and white.

and then summer came a little bit too late. a perfect round of forgetting, and letting go. of things we haven't yet owned. a realization might come at the last minutes. and that's normal. nothing are too false nor too true when it comes to building trusts. those might crashed by the cliff. or went safely to the glass house. nothing is eternal, as sun never stay put at a seat.

finally it's fall. when the need of settling down finally took over the thoughts. that's when you take a look at the hourglass in the corner of your bookshelf. and gave it an exhale. a long one. you never took the hard-to-count sands as a metaphor of your year-time regrets. you never had any time to regret things to begin with. but it all became a different matter when you decide to get off the bar stool, going home, and make a comfort out of your broken-white couch.


the parties are over.
and it's not to celebrate another circle of a year.

because pains are growing, with different shades among each of us.
and unfortunately those come in perfect round yearly.