I walk by the sea
Waiting
Dancing waves comes and touch my feet
But I'm not that old
I wonder how long I've been walking
How far I've come
I look back
I see nothing
The footprints on the shore have been washed away
I look at the sea
Touching the orange sun
I walk back slowly, silently and whisper to my heart
I wait for something to happen
But nothing ever does
Like Jarmusch standing besides the shore
Saying life has no plot
Why must prose?
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