I'm above teen now. I know how to play with the guitar of broken rope, how to fly after a fall because I know how not to die since I saw my brother click a click in the darkness and the blink of the light made me see your reality. And even the single mosquito helped me to view your reality. And the ploy you strategized was revealed by you on his pinch. //In the caption. You said, " Your heart is a guitar that I once played with. It made a good mingle of low and high but not that suitable to be one." And still, these words linger and play blues of guitar.
