Some take a look at old photos, some stare into the emptiness of the night. Some when their blinded by the morning Sun, while others go there in the presence of music. Few drink their guts out to reach there, and some stare at the ceiling fans when they go to sleep. Some go there when surrounded by chaos, some, when there is chatter all around. Auto Pilot switches on, and everything else goes silent.
This is a place where no one else can reach, no one else can go to without permission. What happens here, remains here and will probably die here. Its a holy place, where one asks powerful, weighing questions. Where thoughts wage bloody battles, and the conscience fights for peace. Time loses pace, the world - its meaning.
The deepest doubts, the darkest secrets, the happiest minutes, the treasured memories, all together. Without conflict, without fear.
It is the last line of defense. Last point of reason.
The Last one to fall.
Sanctum
M
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