My mind wanders sometimes. Ever have that feeling that someone is behind you. Maybe someone is standing next to you looking out, wishing, longing, drifting, connecting.
Maybe the wind speaks faint voices as it flutters about. Maybe there is just silence, as the building lets out a creak and a moan. The feeling of time weighs heavily on my old soul. I feel like I've lived many past lives in this instance. The funny thing is, I don't remember any of them. Except the one I'm living now.
"Fine Art America" watermark, in lower right corner, will NOT appear on the actual purchased/physical print, etc.