arlette sat at the curb wondering about fate and destiny amidst speeding cars.

do you remember the last time you awoke from a dream and had forgotten the details the next instance? that empty dream could make or break the day of any man. arlette's dreams were painted with pastel watercolours in a dainty world on flying carpets. on bad nights, dreams came in the form of pythons and a black mamba. on average nights, dreams were just pitch black.

 arlette was dressed like a whisper. she wore a black mask and had eyes painted red. her shoulders lowered everytime she smiled. it was as if a mass of emotions had been forced out of her. her eyes reflected of the few regrets she buried beneath blankets and secrets she wanted to tell the world. it was beyond doubt that she was slightly odd but mediocrity shouldn't be a sin if everyone else was trying to be different.

 she liked rainy nights, enjoyed conversations, long walks on cold days, the warmth of a touch, a kiss on the collarbone and imaginations that ran way beyond your definition of ordinary. some nights felt cold and solemn like death. they portrayed the strange beauty of time. her thoughts and emotions raced through crossroads and white lines on these nights. if hanging a white flag was an option, optimism would no longer be forced upon people. hers would have been raised high in adjacent to the ground.

 indeed, the world is dying. if you kept still on a silent night, you would hear white noise and screechings of mother earth's suffering. then again, who would stop to take a standstill to help the poor man on the street when we all have a pointed agenda to obey. mother earth wasn't going to be an exception. we are all ungrateful deceitful children of man, arlette inclusive.

 arlette wanted a long-term relationship with the head of the sun, who was there for her like a father figure. in fact, he was a bigger father to her than her own father had been. the nature of relationships inflicted complications and badly heated the communication that ran between them. the prolonged tension had caused her to slowly despise the sun. inevitably, she wanted to be with shadows who hid from the sun. there, she would find a different kind of hope breathing through her thinning skin.

 how do you end a story that hasn't ended. even if i gave arlette an ending, i'd be deceiving myself to say that arlette found hope in the pitch dark. what shall rise will fall. there are patterns in life that we subconsciously follow. i'm not trying to break numbers and patterns but this was arlette's world. standing on a thin line was her addiction because there is beauty in the breakdown.

 so let go.