A journey that determines the direction of life, whichever way to go. Perhaps to the forest, or maybe the sea. Ah, yes, it has not been to the sea for eight years. Is it still blue huh? Or maybe it's a mixture of white sand that is getting older. Wait, sand does it have age?

There is, a forgotten step. On the foot that is about to step on a road, but doubt attack. Gives gray to the mind that is not moving quickly from a difficult choice. The road was empty, full of thick fog. Like an empty bullet casings on a pistol, which when fired there is only a meaningless empty hoot.

Something is missing from within this chest. From a space in the heart of the heart is called love. Space that was once glowing but now dark dark containing the void. Either, what is the excellent bargainer of this pain. A friend suggested to go wherever this foot is about to dock.

Journey of life. Journey of love. The journey of meaning.