A girl once lost her scent, her taste, her flavour in all the good intentions she was carrying around. Good intentions that were wasted in a universe gone mad, so she had lost it all for nothing and is out there with an ashen face.
The girl that spontaneously went colorblind wears nothing but a corset in winter, giving her best to look like an oil painting, but ending up painfully misplaced.
The temporarily colorblind girl buys wine and razors at the store in the train station at night, and the nice person behind the counter wonders.
They wonder if they should say something.
Where did she get lost?
Where is the empty picture frame that usually has hold of this mess?
Who let her out?
Can she keep herself together unwatched?
She, the tragedy ready to happen.
„I lost my spice“, she says unasked, urging to pay for her tragic goods and leave. „Living a life killed my soul and I have to summon it back before it‘s too late.“
And she grabs the razors and the wine and flees out into the freezing night.
Leaving behind an empty frame, and many unasked questions on those friendly lips she will never get to know.
„You cannot leave me alone for so long“, I yell at my witch one freezing night, ready to taste cinnamon and wine, for things are not fine.
Mistress witch writes 