Whenever I come out of the darkness, everything I see fills me with emotions, emotions I can’t identify, feelings I cannot put into words, it leaves me helpless.
I yearn to write about those little mischievous squirrels running around looking for the treasure of their own, squeaking all around about something they have to find, all those little creatures are running from branches to branches to prove their survival capacities.
About birds who’re chitter chartering in their own words, talking about the weather, or about the trees that are looking like a skeleton and some of the trees getting back to life as beautiful new leaves emerge, or are they having a gathering for deciding who’s making nests on which tree or maybe who will be making the most magnificent nest this time.
About butterflies flying here and there, looking exceptionally elegant, sitting on flowers, collecting sectors sufficient for the day, tasting every flower, and choosing which one is sweeter, or having conversations with their favorite flowers and adoring those buds, newest members that have arrived.
Everywhere I see, I see something to write about, something extraordinary that I might ruin if I try to justify them in sheer words.
I’m afraid these emotions will die in the silence of darkness when the Sun will go down. But I have hope of finding something as magnificent in the twilight.
Inside of Introvert Mind 
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