Arvaill

I am drowning in a quicksand of time. One movement - salvation. One movement - death. Roadless tracks and crossroads. Collapsing mountains. Life is just sustained process of dying. Agony. Longer or shorter. Blissful? Tragic? Is it really important? It will end with death anyway. Memento Mori.

I: The Beginning One day, she came to me. Oh, Solitude, my only friend, at least you’re still with me. Although the suffering you bring, you are my shield, my dear. I’ve sacrificed my sanity only to stay with you. And even though someone hath tried to tear me away from your soothing embrace, he stopped trying, for I am mad and so this grief shall never cease. I walk alone, with you, my dear, they gave me name of soliteur. I think it shall stay this way, forever, ‘till the end. II: Life in Your Waters I’m drowning in my own thoughts. Deep, murky water covering me from everywhere. Existence on which you have doomed