Sometimes when we trust people too much we become leaves of trees. We fall off during the winter season and drift through the wind, neglected, forgotten, and left alone in a foreign place.
No man is an Island, they say
An island, yes, is lonely
Alone in the ocean
An island, yes, is isolated.
No means of getting out, provided no boat.
An island, yes, is no place to be in.
An island, however, is innocent.
It is miles away from civilization, from the buzzing and churning of people who have more bad than good.
An island, is also beautiful.
No forced changes are imposed. It is as it has always been.
bIg fAt uNicOrN rIdIng oN rAinBowS
