#spirittohuman

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does that mean yes

[neuroticsynth]

【 初音ミク 】 ｐｒｅｓｓ【ＰＬＡＹ】

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It appears that Michaela has found her way to harmonize!                                                             Once upon a time, in an evil kingdom.                                                                 Lived a woman who saw it all burn?                                                                                                          I beg to differ.

Kicking stones without reason could contrast itself with kicking the bodies of dead corpses with unknown names. Emotion had been preserved in these distilled hearts, yet stones do not have hearts, but people can place their emotions into them. Materialism, it is called. And in fact people are things too, in a sense.

With a swift kick of his foot the boy sends a stone flying far into a forest deep within the layers of trees that obscure a path that should have been cleared. Traversing deeper without a care, for once the boy would want to just forget about everything and become empty-minded. To just submit to the rustling branches and chirping of birds that stay hidden to the eye. To forget he was a singer or the fact that he even had a twin. To forget the few friends he made, and the stories he had written. Today, he was just a kid named Len. A kid with blond hair and blue eyes. With a pair of baggy jeans for pants and a shirt with his favorite band logo printed across the torso. His favorite sneakers were worn and old, but he disliked the thought of replacing them. And as his thin hair swayed in the small hair tie that held his strands together loosely with every step he took, the boy would whistle aimlessly, not bothering to see if the tune he hummed happened to be a song he had already covered.

Who was the woman who sat near the riverbank? Teal hair is familiarized to him as a typical diva he had supposedly befriended. Though in knowing this, he does not want to believe it. And her appearance may have said otherwise. A forest green gown that dated to a later time in one's history lured him into thinking that this is nothing but a dream. He wishes not to recognize who this woman exactly is. Let it be an illusion, he says. He wishes not to remember any of it.

Taking a stone he throws it into the heart of the flowing stream, watching it ripple the water that was so used pushing in one direction down the road. He wishes not to approach the woman.

As he wished. He did not know her. He did not recognize her. So why greet her, when adults always told children never to speak to strangers? Just how deep did he explore within the delicate fabrics of time? It looked as if he no longer stood in his own time frame of reality. Had he wandered too far?