That which felt like sand between her fingers


And the last time she looked, her dream lay in a pitiful sorrow. Even through all that pain, it looked her unabashedly in the eye and inquired if she had forgotten about its existence. In response to that, she was forced to reminisce the time she held it close to her heart…..

 Now it hurt, just to know that she was bound by the ways of life. And yet again, she failed to understand what hurt more…to not have lived the dream with all the passion in the world……or just having one in the first place

 If it was slipping away from her palm like the sand…would it help if she closed the fist to save some of it?

 Would the dream then stop slipping out of her whole existence?

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