I couldnt care less whether anyone reads this or likes it for that matter. It's merely a place for me to leave my sometimes odd, thoughts. A diary, if you will.
Thursday, 6 January 2011
She wanted to return to her dream. Perhaps it was still somewhere there behind her closed eyelids. Perhaps a little of it's happiness still clung like gold dust to her lashes. Don't dreams in fairytales sometimes leave a token behind?