She had scrounged an instant of silence from time, and had
commenced to forage around in the stream of events. Although the wind was
heavily blustering and the leaves were swayingly falling off the trees, a total
tranquility was soundly overwhelming all through before her. Her single
reflection just showed up whilst she was staring at the old oak tree in the
nearby, questionably wondering how awkwardly the gusty wind was wagging its
branches.
The wind was spotlessly trying to break down the old oak's bole;
yet the tree was highly adamant, only its dead leaves naturally fell off, just
like her tears of despair when her eyes were fully shedding down her rosy
cheeks. Despite the disappearance of pain and the stillness of its blemishing
effects, her crystal tears were miraculously sent forth as a magic balm on the
incurable wounds.
Walid Boureghda, Algeria
