Monologue of the deceasedA man in his early thirties sits in a chair. No objects around him, just emptiness and darkness. A light shines down on him. He sits in silence with his head in hands for ten seconds before starting to speak.Monologue of the deceased
I remember that day. I remember like it was my last. How I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. Not a single tear. Not a single cry. Maybe I had no reason, no right. The despair was there, but blurry. It’s blurry when I try to think back to the funeral home. Blurry when I try to picture faces. But I can feel the despair.
The hurt; like a glow. A throbbing glow. An awkward glow. Saving each and every one of them f
Your gallery is really good too.
watching u
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DeKrooked
thank you veer much fior the fav..............i hope to see something soon
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Almost feel Better
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------Ganso Bombing since 2005------
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