The sky was particularly beautiful this morning, the sun was just coming over the trees and the village hidden among them. I taste the bitterness found in coffee, the aroma of this warmth cup makes me feel good. No wonder it’s called pleasure drug.
I feel peace sitting on a bench, looking at delightful creatures. No people talking, only the sound of the air hitting green leaves and birds singing.
There was no camera captured my happy lonely moment. I would be regret if I didn’t do anything since this feeling is precious. Therefore, I decided to write.
However, when it comes to writing, I couldn’t find any ideas; knowing only that I feel I’m me and I don’t have to explain why to anyone.
I always feel like I’m not from this generation, I just live in it. Probably because of the way my mindset differs from the majority, they’d think I come from a different dimension. That’s why I keep thing to myself. It’s always better that way.