Dear ghost,
I am at the junction of my feeling. I am neither dusting off the old shelves of memories. Nor am I rowing backward towards possibilities. I am just dotted. It's just ... I just want to lay on an asphalt road and stare at the moon but in the city, I might get trampled if I do. So in the dark room with green light, this feeling can go into any arrays of emotions. I can be elated of the castle in my mind. Or I may weep for the numb in my soul. However, I am vulnerable to despair in this junction.
Yours even as I fear to be.