The gray in the midst of the longwinded way shows no path forward, but invites me to lose my assumed control. Short on breat I go on without the touch of my own. There is no right side to see, there is no right side to take. All covered in the gray. There is all the good to all the bad, no soul is clean without a gray spot in its ethereal hair. Why does the black and white only come when we desire and care?

One Page Stories


Maybe ยฏ\_(ใƒ„)_/ยฏ Great

Personal site of Ondล™ej David

curious creator, writer, designer, futurist

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