The wind is blowing oh so eerily and fiercely, every cell in my body screams for warm nourishment and heavy blankets. Yet I'm still here. Call me persistent or even stupid, but once I trap myself in another realm I find it hard to escape.
Maybe I'll make myself a cup of hot tea. And continue writing.
But it all depends on Chika. If she wakes, then all imaginations and fantasies will shatter. And I find myself becoming once again an ordinary mommy, fussing over my newborn babe.
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