I pushed against the bricks; it was routine. Trying to find a way out. It was impossible. I knew that. But pushing was my placebo. So I pushed. The winds were fierce. They blew. Hard. I passed the time, running, pushing, waiting for my hour to come. I sat. Facing the wind. Letting it release it's anger onto me. It subdued. Unlike what had happened in the past years. I was still living in the storms of Then.
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One hour
AventuraCompleted Although in need of editing. 'We would run again. Together. ' This book is set in the post-apocalyptic future of sorts. It is a contemplative novel about use of life and place in a narrative form. A bit of philosophy, bit of action, a lo...
