the bridge of two souls
a story about where two people meets in a bridge, finds each other and rewrite what was once thought to be finished.
c h a p t e r 1: he+ she
quiet morning, the road seems like it’s waiting to tell a story. I make my way after ending my leisure time with a last sip of the pink lemonade towards the bookshop, where my heart lies. It’s a privilege to have your dream as a career, I’ve seen my mom just folding clothes while she still looks for clays to make something once in a while, peeping when she thinks no one’s looking. I’ve seen my sister counting stars from the coins her around husband gives two days a week and also some extra bruises which that my sister says, “just some dirt in my face nothing much”, she doesn't count not from the sky, like she once dreamt of doing.
overall, I’ve seen people giving up, chasing after trains which weren’t meant for them in the first place, breaking each pieces of their soul just to be finally be succeed at settling for wealth.
I’ve seen people fight for their brain or heart when it comes to the question, “what is more important?” and seen them forget that we can use both.
I see people and their stories and maybe that’s why I have a bookshop. I’m good at seeing things, totally grateful for that to be honest. But, sometimes I wish I can see myself the way I see people.
I’m not sure what I am, I don’t know myself and not sure why it’s like that, it just is, you know?
and all of a sudden, the bell rings and I get on the train, on my way to my bookshop.
…
pick up stacey from school at 8 am, get some light breakfast first though, and get some mushroom and cauliflower oil cause guests coming babyyyyy.
living in a boring town doesn’t really all the way hurt to be honest. When you have music and and can see the sky, it’s enough for me.
bit of rude to get into the story without introducing myself, isn’t it? hi I’m someone you don’t know. And I’m 19 years old, on my way to the bookshop to get my first love. I’ve heard it finally arrived on this shit whole of a circus and I need to be the one to get my hands on that book. If you wanna know me, all you gotta do is ask, I have so many things to tell you about me, bro.
the white lace around my heart is soft and almost lets anything in. From a small apple juice i had when i was seven to kissing my then lover for the first time- everything that happens in my life, has their own ways of becoming meaningful to me.
and i think, no- for sure, its not good for me. To let everything that happens stays meaningful is also letting things that has chances of breaking me down, which is true.
cause some things, pictures, people, he broke me down.
if only i knew people, if only i could have known that they painted themselves with soft pink petals so perfectly to hide their cruel intentions.
Wish it was just as easy to read people as it is easy to read myself.
I’m sure of myself more than anything and not sure why it’s not easy for me to see people, how good they must have to be at hiding that it feels impossible for me to see?
and the sweet heavenly sound rings, the train gets to know my footsteps and i felt a warm breeze, not just through my skin but my heart as well. I finally get to hold my favorite book.
chapter 2: them
cold breeze rushes with few hot touches. He steps outside of the train and only few more sixteen blocks away, his bookshop is there.