I had my reasons.
Not to write. Here.One night I woke out of breadth. It was when I saw two children… each a hand in the hand of a man in early 19th century uniform. One of the girls carried a grey handmade soft toy…which was thrown into my direction. No one there to ease its fall. It soon shall have had no purpose anymore.
The two were as swiftly executed and drawn to the cobble stone ground by gravity as I opened my eyes to the darkness.
The next morning my fourteenth diary comes to its last page and I notice that a final chapter is closing in on me.
