In words, it is peaceful. Reality crushes on me and crushes my faulty heaven, but into the arms of imagination is the only place to escape. What a thing to choose, but in some way I’m with you. In a city over grown, lights of flowers glow and hanging hopes do grow. No directions but to follow what you put into your faith of the final destination. Fate swept you away, waiting for that whisper the journeys over. You and me, we faced monsters never seemed real in this world our mind travel. Until compared faced with Silence, reality’s creation with the face of disappointment and claws of demand. And this is how it’s going to be: these are the supposed worlds and the only journey is imagery, subtitled works we call books.