Reality is just a fragment, and we all try to escape.
Is time just an illusion that we tell to ourselves?
If you close your eyes, can you hear the sound?
Or do you need the sound, to see what you hear?
When the birds make their first chirping in the morning, home might still seem a long way.
Close your eyes.
Reality doesn’t exist.
Nights turn into days.
Days turn into weeks.
The couch of a stranger.
For now, I don’t go home.
For now, I stay.