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Quiet. The silence of an evening spent perched up in my bed. It’s been forever since I dived in the river of my thoughts. Just my thoughts and I; and a blank page.

I’m surprised for a few split seconds. The river usually runs wild, its waves hit with no discrimination and no mercy. Today, though, I’m in awe in the face of the power its calm, steady flow can have. Emotions aren’t stirred with the violence of Romantic Age affairs. Instead, they’re slowly brought to the surface of the soul and as they reach the sunburnt territories of a long-abandoned heart, they start awakening it to new possibilities.

There’s deep and heavy silence. But this time it doesn’t have the deafening undertones of a thunderclap in the distance, threatening to roll in closer. Unbelievable as it may be, it feels like it’s finally the calm in the eye of the storm that I’ve been craving for. It’s like a warm blanket I’m curling under and the only sound breaking the silence is that of another heart beating not in unison, but in complement.

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