The background of the sullen, secluded room plays “Nocturne”.
She sits, with a broken lip, scars and remnants of the past. Her voice, husky from the countless cigarettes she smoked throughout her younger years, still she finds strength to tell her story, the bittersweet reality that only time can heal with more hurt and freedom than ever before.
When the layers of time was passing me by i learnt more than i was being taught. My mind ventured in a different notion. Imaginary figures on my wall, i spoke to them as if they were real.
Venturing out in the real world, “people” were different. To me, they were monsters and puppets; like an entirely different species altogether. Each of them emitting a distinct stench. Some of greed and jealousy whereas others reek of lust and blood or just blood alone. Only in between the blanket of isolation that is my room was I able to find myself free from the repulsive miasma from every corner.