"Where is my bicycle?", The boy suddenly asked as he grabbles
on the street, by the mud, and all the things felt by `the gutters.
On the wet road, dangerously, almost near the passing cars, covers up in grass and leaves, and his bicycle the one he was searching for, almost miss under his thoughts of still pedaling. The rain came and went, but the feeling of his feet quietly lose him out of having any idea that he just had a sudden accident.
"Where I am? " he says while There like a wounded animal, disoriented entering the woods; a place where people silence hasn't mentioned, such dark forest, within The Ghost of memories.
©Michale Poppler
