An ocean, its muffled roar.
A desert: cracked earth, sand flowing like crumbling liquid.
Fire. Face. Feathers. Flowers.
(This is a story about time.)
I’ll be here.
A storm. Wings of fabric. Eyes: gold. Dark. Hazel. Familiar and unfamiliar.
(Effects come before causes, memory before incident.)
I’ll be waiting here.
(This is a story about dreams.)
(Words are spoken: is that your voice, or another’s? Is this prophesy or recollection, real, or surreal, or more than real?)
Blades cross. Sparks fly. Hands stretch towards each other: will they meet?
She turns to look at him, dark hair made alive by the wind.
I’ll be waiting, so
if you come here
you’ll find me.
[this from when I was still a little obsessed with final fantasy 8 because it was just emo enough for me and about love and not being able to deal with change very well. transcription of the first opening animation.]