The shell protects me from all that is on the outside. And it also keeps intact whatever is on the inside.
This shell is no longer what it used to be; for within likes a ghost of a bygone era – feeding off memories of a companion that has been swept to a distant shore, a different shore.
Who knows how much sand of time shall escape from between our fingers as we endure on this journey, as we endeavour to grasp on to every passing memory that was not created, as we live in the anticipated warmth of a tomorrow that is as uncertain as life itself.
We live in hope of a better tomorrow.
We live in hope in search of salvation.
Other than the fact that we do not have much choice, we live in hope because ‘hope is a good thing’.