There is no place for her in the new world – he knows it as he kisses her brow, and she smiles, still half-asleep.
He listens to the clock tick, counting the last minutes of the life as he knows it. As he watched the old world go down in flames, he knew that the next one had to be made differently, perfectly, and people should stick to doing simple things in order not to mess everything up again with their imperfect ideas.
And she, she is a painter, an artist. As much as he loves her, he knows that imagination can only cause problems.
Powerful writing… I like the way the so called “old” and “new” world get juxtaposed here… I wonder if it is a sort a post apocalyptic world which burns in flames or if it is just her imagination, as an artist that decides to recreate herself and thus, enter a new world
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Thank you! 😊 I’m happy that it seems to be open to different interpretations.
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Ooooh. I like this. It raises so many questions.
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Thank you! 😊
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This is great- seems so sad to me!
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Thank you so much! 😊 And yes, it is quite sad I think.
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