This land on which I once felt home, has lost its soul and visions. Filled with ruins of lost ideals and ashes covering tolerance. When every dialogue has a reference in memory, they're in the end just blindfolded perceptions, seen trough our glasses of the past. But at least they suit this empty shell.

Our greatest difference is indifference. To feel the urge to give a fuck. And we don't claim to be the visionairs, but at least we don't neglect to shape opinions.

Looking at the shoreline, I try to think of things that are worth to strife for. But I can no longer relate to this. I've never felt more lost than at home.

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