The path seems soft, intangible even. Darkness sticks to my face as I walk down the empty hallway.
The road seems endless, corrosive, barren and dead. 48 more words
Winter morning is always stark bright. The clouds can never covet the light completely so it is reflected on the pristine white snow.
The silent capes of snow cover the mountains and welcome the wind howling merrily among them. 24 more words