What’s imperceptible yet obsequiously felt is more disturbing than the gnawing presence of loneliness or pain or sorrow, a trenchant sensation of melancholy without any cause or reason, like a dark shadow that perches on the palms of one’s hand, but there’s no shadow, only the perception of an elusive memory, wafting tenderly inside the mind of a stranded soul. (— Danny Castillones Sillada, Wings of the Fog)
-Danny Castillones Sillada
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