Perhaps the winter of grey skies, light rain and leafless
trees has made me such the same as the weather. There is no light to my eyes,
no life to my soul, and no colour to my writing. Is this possibly what they
call winter depression? Can a solstice impact us in such a way that it deters
us from those that we have loved doing and evaporate the flames within us? How trivial we are. We, whom have resolved to
keep all things around us mundane has failed to realise that this effort was
predestined to be unsuccessful before it was even conceived. Nature will not
allow it.
I have a theory that humans can overcome nature, that we
actually have the capabilities but we’ve not been able to unlock it.
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