For Whenever AD Couldn't Pull The Trigger.
“ This city knows the people are dead.” I cannot recall for how much time I have been this way, yet, somehow I remember his embrace, something I experienced exactly three hundred and seventy-seven days ago- that’s beyond dead. This city is dead indeed, no amount of songs or poetry can attempt to seek salvation through it. On such one moonlit evening, looking for a drag (as I quite light myself one beside the cheap liquor) without any bother expecting to stir my fervour, offering me more than a drag to crash over at. The very vivid response led me to that alluring terrace with that one damned orange fused vodka- heck, did even the hell know I am aware of nothing about stars, let alone the ‘Cassiopeia’ ; was it just your idea, stranger? He was a quite entity, minding his own sphere, little do I always revere to never rustle his path and crash- an act so ethical yet unfeasible. I read your note, exactly after three hundred and seventy-seven days, do not behold myself guilty of comi...
