Writings from the vault: Dust

I feel it in my chest, making it hard to breathe sometimes.

The grief, the yearning, the wishing.

A twisted little knot, the atrophied remains of a future that once was.

Now I build, brick by brick, a new path towards a new future. Dust in my eyes, I can only see a short distance in front of me.

One foot in front of the other.

Vague hope at the horizon.