We will meet again.
— Sanake, do you think we will meet again?
Sanake looks with glass eyes at the boundless black sky — so fragile, small, tender — and endless stars are reflected in her, light, cold, bright, tiny, sharp, like herself, just as neat, just as endless, just as light, neutral, silent, icy, like herself. Just like herself.
— Sanake, will we meet again?
Sanake does not answer, she looks into the inky depths, and the depths look into her — a scattering of small white radiances is not reflected in silent gray eyes, is reflected in empty light eyes, worlds, universes and stars are reflected there, reflected, and as if Sanake herself consists of myriads of such icy thorns and as if Sanake herself is filled to the brim with these thorns, therefore she is as cold and silent as they are.
And as if Sanake herself is a small, white, cold star. Shining, almost transparent, white - hairs are thin, brittle, shaggy: in different directions, like rays - thin palms, a white dress, cold skin.
White, cracked lips. Gray, bottomless eyes, in which the universe is not reflected, in which the world is reflected.
I close Sanake's eyes.
— We will meet again.
art: [idk the author sorry]
track: rain won't stop - Hello Charlotte! EP.2 OST
