The eyes are now filled with tears over the dust that keep on brought by the wind. It suffocates my lung and hold my steps strong. Breathing seems impossible and sitting is not an option, even after the sucking sand took my feet intentionally. But it was the dust that block the view that added up the hardest point of all. The point of not seeing, of not having a clue. The feet is bearable though calves are almost numb. At least I could still make myself step every one last time. Just this one last time. I've been doing it for years, yet I still keep telling myself that it is the last time to do so. Such denial. Or rather such faith. Depends on how you see'em.
Denial vs. faith. Intriguing and disturbing. Denial is somehow more acceptable. Faith sounds like fairytales.
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