Uzh

The wilding breeze of white trickled slowly down as we arrived in Slovakia, sanity notwithstanding. The brush of morrow now remains a mystery now wondering if this was even the right idea in the first place. When the first sign of the other acting as though your person is chopped liver hitherto points towards the banality of the significance of the otherness, as though love and faith robs us blind of frustrations and disrespect.

First of all, Košice reminds me a lot of secondhand sofa. It was our first stop from London towards Ukraine, in order to soldier the wilding winter white, and for Ani to come to terms with her homesickness, as if I deprive the woman of any capacity to return. My energy is depleted right now as I come to terms that this could be it.

Secondly, that first facial whiff of Ukraine inside that cavernous bus ride felt ominous to a higher calling, regardless of the random company that accompanies the commute. The skylight was gone right as we were about to enter, only channeling half of the day spent after a long ordeal with the flight and the typical theatricals that comes along with family antics. Would I have the strength to stand on my own ideals I would have gladly challenged any forays that may have come and risked it all in an instant, but I mince my words and actions knowing that the microtransactions with those seemingly unaffected then becomes thoroughly affected and will shatter expectations of what it meant to be truly good, which, clearly an understatement, I absolutely am not. So perhaps instead of meeting expectations the best recourse would be to isolate one's self into thy self as a sort of defence mechanism. One that builds an almost animosity that truly never fades away.

Slowly I lose myself to this madness, which is why I thoroughly question this decision of entertaining ticklish and fickle whim.. The morrow will mad on, I along with it involuntarily.