Twilight in the afternoon make friends lonely with yourself.
I sat while smelling the aroma of coffee that washed away.
The sound of the clock hands masquerading regularly.
The silence of nature is friendly and homely.
I slowly sipped black coffee with pleasure.
In front also has sat loved ones.
Occasionally look down and look in all directions.
I don’t know what he was thinking.
Although often answered in a certain time of course.
I was wrong, and why could I be wrong?
The flow of conversation could not be thrown out, as if a long-dead museum.
The mutter inside was huge, but disappeared without direction when faced with conditions.
Why can I be silent?
Don’t I have a mouth to speak.
Don’t I have a mind to think.
I don’t even know what to do.
It was as if everything had happened and had been arranged.
It was getting late in the evening.
The voice grew quieter.
Time is getting more and more waving.
The conversation is getting lost and buried dead.
In the end, I could only stare and let what happened next.
– .
