His feet holds cuts and bruises, they look soar, they look like this almighty surroundings torture him, and why wouldn't it, these surroundings are evil. He can still smell the cookings of roast goose in a room that used to be his kitchen, he can still hear the sweat singing of April, the other half of his heart.
Matter of fact, he can't only smell the roasted goose, he can hear the oven slowly cooking it. He can't only hear her singing, he can hear her footsteps coming his way. He looks up quickly, but sees nothing but the pieces of his roof standing in front of him.
"You don't have to give in, you don't have to lose hope," says an unknown voice. The man looks all around for the owner of this voice, but nobody is there. "Who is there."
"My dear you do not need your eyes, your eyes see the physical things, let your nose and heart guide your path to greatness. "
The man can now see the aroma walk out the kitchen like a pure princess singing her breath to the birds. The aroma has a shape. Her hands gently touch the cracked walls, her hips sway back and forth with every slow step. She has no face, just her body to slowly walk up to him. "Ven your nose has eyes, it sees me way before your eyes put the puzzle pieces together."
Soon the figure disappears, but Ven now feels something, something right in his nose, it smells just like the home-made pie his wife April used to make. That warm smell enlightens his now war torn mind, that smell is the medicine his mental state desperately needs.
After a few minutes of sitting, Ven sits up, looks at the swarm of red in the streets, inhales his home-made pie, and walks back out into the viscous world.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
