two weeks
Things usually ends by half. It is raining today, all day long. I needed an umbrella to go out.
Sunday night seems to be special, different from any other time in week.
A lot of things were whierling inside me for these weeks. But most of them seems to be just a moment.
It is transient.
I was reading a piece of novel as if it was a pack of jigsaw puzzle. Every word looks like a pice of puzzle.
I'd like to go back to be any other condition or situation. This place is too hard for me to express something inside me. It is always difficult.