Winter blues is still coming at me with full force. Last week was about hitting rock bottom, while this week is more about sitting on the last vestiges of my lonely crumbling fortress, marvelling at the emptiness of it. A structure that’s pretty, colourful and serene, yet it’s construction is as imperfect as fallible me who erected it. Upon closer inspection the walls are clearly dwindling, can’t and won’t shield what’s inside, and eventually will let the outside come rushing in. For now, only the quiet serenity remains, the silence before resurfacing.