A cold, damp mist gently enveloped him, and before his feet lay a bridge made of stone. It was a bridge he had never seen before, and it stretched far into a land unknown. When the rain is coming down, you dig yourself a hole, and deep within the mud, you bury your soul. Eventually, when malformed by the rain and its sour foam, it‘ll be trapped, because the isolation feels like home. I don‘t want to believe that there‘s someone here to scourge and hate us, but I saw him in the mirror, and by then his name was nataS.
