De Marcha

The heat of summer gripped its final days. The Italian sabbatical culminated in a day long stroll through cobbled and narrow Madridian streets. A broken heart shackled by circulating thoughts, nauseating the inner compass. Each step grew heavy as young memories pumped through an injured ticker. The sun had set, and stones emitted remnant waves of heat. They melted moving lights, impaired my judgement for a slight second, only to revive longing to return home.

4 thoughts on “De Marcha

  1. Ah memories! Makes you appreciate how far you’ve come and the new experiences that are around the corner. Very moving post.

  2. I already commented on this, but god… this was honestly such a pleasure to read! You are so talented, April🙂

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