Somebody shouting, roaring motors are up and about, people are scurrying around, and cicadas make this screeching sound in a desperate attempt to find mates.
It's busy and loud... and lonely like hell.
Inner emptiness is clouding the sky, greying it and making it cry sad tears.
Life goes about and not everyone is a part of it. We all try of course, to navigate this temperamental river, giving up and coming back for more.
Driven by hope, despair or fear to be left behind we try and try till the last straw breaks urging to let go.
Does this desperate run has an ounce of a meaning?
Does it help make things better for someone?
Are we kidding ourselves in a futile attempt to find significance in endless monotony of hours to be lived and done with?
Cicadas are having a break.
Shiny Moon looks reproachfully down on all of us lost in a sleepless abyss