Every separation is the beginning of another life, but first is to end a life. And it is never easy to finish a life. It's like smoking a cigarette in front of the door. Something that works inside, overthrows, makes sick.
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It takes time for you to wake up. It's like the soil is growing after Chernobyl. After all, there is a time when you have to live, but roasted, dried up.
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To leave or not to hear, not to weigh and reap the value of a flood or drought, drought, the inner corollary, like a term truck hit to live to say.
It's life, it's keeping people alive.
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