There is this sadness which comes and claims a day.
– I feel sad Coco.
– Yes you do. We always do when they are leaving.
– Who are they?
– The old ways. The old habits. If you let your sadness flow – she will tell you her name…
I let my sadness flow and she shows me her face, pale, almost transparent skin with fine blue veins pulsating in her temples.
– My name is Victim, – her lips are moving, no sound is spoken, yet I understand every word. – I am leaving, – she says; ever so fragile; arms like slender willows on her sides…
– I understand…
– I am afraid… – She says.
– So am I…
– I will never see you again… – she sighs.
– No, you won’t…
– I go now?…
– Farewell…
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