She was.
She is.
She might be.
She was her and him and all of them.
She was everything, nothing and bittersweet.
She lives, she dies, she doesn't have a care.
Or so they believed.
Some say she only cared out of pure obligation.
Some say she never cared because she didn't deserve to.
But only she could know the biting truth.
Yet she didn't.
She didn't know who she was.
And she could only guess what she was.
But the biggest question nestled into the folds of her mind was: why was she?
Why was she, she?
Why was she, her?
Herself, not someone else.
Not anything else.
She was she, at this very moment, in this era in time and at this exact point in the universe. Why?
Out of endless possibilities, she was herself.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
She asked, desperate for answers.
Why not? It replied indifferently.
She sat, still; thinking.
VOUS LISEZ
Words
AléatoireCome with me on a journey like no other. Take my tour of life, see the universe through a different eye, experience death once again without the bitter regret. Follow me, my friend, and become happy once again.
