"It's been a while since I heard the silence on my journey. Many times, I shouted and shattered the layers to break free from these bounds. After losing many legs and arms, longing for healing and understanding the why, finally, I hear the whispers of silence.

My story begins from ages before, when the black hole boots journey call me on their expeditions. I was a young daydreamer

Old jiminy drink some cold bear with a gentel move of arm and the glowing reflect lights his wound on chiks and eyes.

I'm still a daydreamer, no longer young.

He said.

Jiminy grabs the beer and daydreams on the freckled holes of the moon, slowly hearing voices glowing from the silence: 'Malign, Malign Jiminy.' It grows clear and near until he gets lost in memories.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

'Malign Jiminy, do you think this Gaborone rag fits me?' Jiminy asks.

'For you or your girlfriend?' he responds.

'Don't be sexist, Malign.'

'You're becoming too cultural.'

'And you're too naive.'

'Don't be upset. I'm still thinking about the long conversation we had last night. I need time to understand why I should change my point of view.'

Sariti buys the rag while wearing it and paying, saying, 'It's all about consciousness, Malign.'

Like ashes on wind, The reality faded into memory. The moon and its freckled holes shine brightly, the beer is cold, but the memory is old."