Fog, mist, drowsy cafés. The crispy air of autumn and lazy sunrays trying to make it through the clouds.
The sharp feeling of nothingness when memories of a time long gone hit through to the surface at the moment when the hand touches the wooden door.
Yesterday I finally held a sword in that very same hand. Not a real one, yet a sword. It made me feel graceful, powerful. One day I will be dancing with a sword in my hand.
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