The Twenty-Seventh of January, 2015
As I sit here, enclosed in layers of warmth and comfort, reminiscent of bygone days gently lulled in my mother's gentle and loving embrace, I can't help but notice the raging blizzard dancing beyond my meager and fragile wall of glass. Perhaps this blizzard is a personification of my own turmoil and doubts- I suppose as humans, we all must have them- in regards to the future and what it holds. The room is bathed in a blue luminescence, cast with a cold glare from this contraception that serves as not only my prison, but my escape.
Escape from what, you may ask?
The silence, near-deafening in its howl.
(Hi, this is my dummy post for my Philosophy blog entry.)