Pure White World
Winter carried with it the marks of wind and rain, arriving with a graceful presence. Outside, the falling leaves danced in the wind, and the withered veins flowed with the sorrow of this season's prosperity. Perhaps next year's spring would see the dormant strings of the soul resonate once more amongst the branches. But for now, fate was adrift with the wind, ultimately dissolving in the winter rain.
A world of pure white, without snow, yet frozen three feet deep in ice. Each drop of crystalline, clear liquid flowed into the veins, brushing against the heart, like the biting chill of winter rain mixed with the wind seeping into the pores and settling into the warm heart. Curled up with a pillow for warmth, the pillow warmed, but the heart remained cold.
Outside, the vibrant red and green of the city clashed with the stark white within, to the point that moths that loved incandescent light wouldn't linger here. I desperately sought a touch of warm color, but my eyes reflected only the pure, monotonous solitude. Finally, I understood that those who lived in a world of pure white yearned for life with such intensity and determination. My fragile heart, in this winter, gradually relaxed and grew stronger.
It is said that a fish without water either dies in despair or learns to breathe in another way. I simply lost my love, not air. Even if the heart is cold, there is still a corner of warmth where memories flourish. Filtering out the pain, retaining the beauty, the future remains promising.
