We can never smell and know its fragrance.
“Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see,
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I’m easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Any way the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me, to me.”
Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen
It lead me there where nothing could be seen but everything could be felt.
How far will I go? Will I go far or will I leave midway? What shall bring my end? Is it near? Shall I start counting my breaths?
Tell yourself every day that your existence here is temporary and you have to make your stay worthwhile.