A faded photo, two cups of cool hot tea, silence filled the room like a sea. The hands that were once clasped, I don't know when to let go; those endless conversations are now just polite blanks. When the marriage comes to an end, there is no hysterical entanglement or bloody scenes, just two people slowly getting separated over the years. Turning around is not a betrayal, but leaving a dignity for each other. From then on, the mountains are high and the rivers are far away, and each of us rushes towards a tomorrow without the other.
