When everything is over, we'll go home. Back where we came from.
So what does it matter now if we are a little late, a little unsteady on our feet: stumbling and clutching, falling and tripping? In the end, we'll pick ourselves up and lightly brush away the memories of hurt.
Like dust off a favourite coat.
4 comments:
A little dust makes the favourite coat a little more favouriter.
thankew for writing the post. pliss to not close the blog! ilove!!
:)
@ahona
I guess. :)
@CM
:D
Yes, yes, pleeeaase don't close the blog. And, like I already said, verynicepost. :)
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