the clock on the wall starts to count my life, the rest of it. I still want to know why I have to let go and just start again... how come life is so dirty? and every single second just feels so empty, blurry. Hurry, you are late! Pick up your pieces falling down on the stairs and try to make them a real statue again. Still... everything is so still... she has to go and I have to let... I take a picture of the last touch of our hands... this moment we never had. Why does a goodbye hug has to be so tight? so emotional? so wrong? so right?... i hate goodgbyes.... my heart, it dies... and the clocks... the clocks are still doing tic.. tac... tic... tac...