Wlaking around with my
girlfriend, or so I thought. But it wasn't really her, or rather sometimes it was, and sometimes not. We were
inside and
outside at different intervals, in
locations I didn't know. Always holding hands, encompassed by quiet
bliss known only to
monks and
lovers.
We weren't going anywhere special, just walking. But I kept feeling lost, and unconfortable, and more and more
afraid of something ahead.
Then I would look at her only to see not her, but rather someone else who was like her and need to run away, but couldn't.