Never forget that life is dust that escapes through your fingertips.

Running through the woods, there was dust behind me. Following me. I'm not sure if I was scared of just playing with it, but I was deffinetly running away from it, trying to escape, trying to avoid it catching me.
It was fun. I had fun dodging the trees, looking at my back and seeing the shine behind me. It almost felt like it was looking back at me in a cheerful way. As if it was my friend since the day my life had begun.
I always loved to be in the woods. It felt like home, even though I had the most magnificient home I had ever wanted. It was me dream house, with everything I have always wanted to have and in the best way possible. But there was something about being away from it that made me feel great, feel almost alive.
I loved to, after running from a while, after being chased by the dust, sit on the ground and take a look to the sky. I loved to imagine myself on different situations. I just loved to imagine. I loved to be able to escape the universe for a moment and reach the stars, touch the void, feel it, embrace it, and then drop back to the place my body was standing still. And once I was back, there was the dust, waiting for me, but not with the same face, it was more maleficent, almost laughing at me, and then it would run away, dissapear, and would never see that dust again.
The say that losing what you like the most is tough, but not even knowing what and why have you lost something isn't either the best you can do on a Friday night. Going back home with the sad face, with the feeling of nothingness attached to your neck, that's one of the best friends of a dreamer.