Transitions. Quite a familiar site. A place I have known for so long, I have known too well.
And it feels like I have never left that area. Not that it’s my favourite place.
But it seems fixated within the fabrics of my being.
Every filament breathes out a different story, every crossway speaks of change.
Each endeavour, each hope meticulously interwoven with the fibres of time.
And I walk the tedious walk, along the perpetual intersections.
One transition after another.