Rays of sun passing through stained glasses on an old-fashioned classroom.
The mixture of light and rain resulting a multi-colored semicircle of infinity.
Particles of dust dazzling in the light.
Scent of ancient books hypnotizing bookworms
Empty chairs, abandoned tables.
Fans on the ceiling had blown sheets of paper.
No one even responded, no one noticed, no one was there
Dancing fluorescent lamps imitating scenarios in a horror movie.
Sound of a man who couldn't even breathe
Been looking for staple wires that perfectly suit my stapler.
Binding sheets of ideas, matching them as one.
Blank spaces, newly-made papers, printed files and documents.
Sorting, making arrangement according to their time of existence.
Old files full of red marks, stains of coffee.
Two holes on the upper left part of papers were getting bigger.
Staple wires turned into rust leaving unnecessary color.
A token of memory, a history, can never be replaced with new ones.
Ink of effort engraved on old sheets can create their replica but never be duplicated.
Blood of pain behind the words used was cleansed by the cold water of time.
Time to detach from the past, get attached to something new.
Replace the old staple to new one and create memories in blank spaces.