Fly by up2105

Day 1750: It feels eerily similar to Day 1. I wake up with the sun beating down on my face, no longer held in check by the facade I'm sleeping against. The heat is starting to sting, which I contemplate for a few moments. I'm so glad to be feeling something upon my skin which isn't gravel or my own beard, curling back up to itch me in the very same spots where I'm sore. It's as if even my own face wants nothing more than to detach and fly away.

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Galen over 13 years ago

"It's as if even my own face wants nothing more than to detach and fly away."

up2105 (joined over 13 years ago)

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Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

genres

memoir

tags

Somber destitute

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