with the rustling of books, the shine of the daylight, and the dust circled around the oldest of objects. ladders creaked, pages turned.
in the only world of where nothing matters, only the princess with a priceless smile and words could describe it to you. there was no euphoria. euphoria was a nice way to say it.
it was more of a temporary sense of blithe. it wasn't strong, but it was enough to distract ones mind from the problems more important.
the sky's oil-pastel drawing of yellow to pink, orange to blue, a faint humming from one most talented sang. it was drifting slowly from her, but it wasn't really enough to bring her back.
to believe in the clouds moving with you, moving with time; move with the divine. the sun and moon dance from time to time,...