unshuffled

If he closes his eyes, he can only just imagine the three of them together, linked beyond mitigating circumstance into an impossible and unwritten future that never has to truly change, will never die, fade or expire.

For one shining moment. For one fragile concept, for their minds only.

It's not about the freedom of choice to rescatter, but the rather the one to remain, by your own holy volition. The denouncement of denial, the renouncement of resenting all time that passes by.

It's the moment that's empty, of course. It's the moment that doesn't know how to move on.