The Gold, the missing things we look for insistently. We need them to adorn our soul, to light up the hazy days. A beautiful spin through the garden of youth, and the roses have dried blood on their thorns. The Forest, the trek deeper into the mind. The trees are ancient and worn. They are tired, resting in their birthplace, never to move. They provide solace for the weary. They whisper a lesson: embrace the history, and move forward. The two ends of a story are tying together. "Coffee?" //Updates on weekends