This autumn air makes my music taste funny , he said knowingly.
It’s heavier than the speed of breath he said as he lost his, caught it, and held it just to let it go and repeat the cycle, only slower the next time.
He often found himself in those moments using repressed yells subterfuge.
afraid that someone may see his unseen and mistake it for yearning for loneliness. He was afraid that someone may see his ideas and mistake them for art or passion .
He had wished to be rid of those feelings. so he breathed slowly