Click.

“Isn’t it nice ?”

Lukewarm and a tint of orange from the sunset rays filled the scenery. Autumn and its leaves.

Gathering of joys, interrupted by a small breeze.

Picnics, happy faces.

A bell-like voice that would grab my attention whenever.

Click

Hands held, slow trudging on the side of the road.

Appreciation and adoration, passion.

“...I love nice things.”

Wishing my hands were the same as the weather, I held what I love.

Brighter it was than the rays, redder it was than my love for sceneries.

Click

On the other, I held whom I lived for.

A Minute, Please.

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