Thoughtsara

It was the time when I lost someone. Someone close. As close that,  A piece of heart is gladly torn away. But the remains of it linger on the walls and in the reflections. I have grown up picking all the pebbles of this fort that kept falling off to ground with age. And I willfully started building mine placing each picked up pebble right where it mightttyl ngtttttttt have stood on the old fort. My whole life, this was my ritual. And when its time, The old fort collapsed to the ground unannounced. By then, I barely scratched the surface of its magnificience. I was clueless, as in what to make out of it. I was unaware that out of blue I will have nothing but the traces of it. I had questions. A lot of them. How am I going to build the rest of my fort? Not that I don't have any more pebbles, But who will tell me where goes what? Where to look at when I try to fit in the pieces? And it got interesting when I questioned Why do I even build the fort knowing it will fall off one day? Is ...