Just like sand passing through the fingers, it changes like a leaf, turns yellow and dries. Like wars, like poverty, like fire, and like snow, changes, makes things old. But I move like a reckless French crow, sit by the Seine and watch the sound coming from Notre Dame, go to per lachaise and sit with Frederic Chopin until morning.
We may all feel empty, we feel that time is passing and we still have not done anything for the world and we have just grown. But do not forget, the darkest point of the night is the closest point to daylight.