Long are the streets, like rivers of black. One by one the dwellings repeat. My measure of life was the one white door. Bleached by the sun shall open no more. Repeat this movement from rise to set. How I wondered if I would forget.
I arrive with my breath held inside. I survived another day, I am alive. The soul behind the door shattered but strong, counting the days since she’s been gone.
Deteriorating day by day the moments of life. Everyday I’m opening the Door of Life.