Whirling
Moths
In the air, there was a scent which reminded him his childhood. Everything was chaotic, joyful and exciting all at the same time.
«I am so tired» he said, drowned out by the hubbub of the crowd.
Swinging and swinging again, flirting with the perfume of toffee apples, candies and chocolate.
He was bitter, he knew. He was always getting attracted to the wrong light.
«Will I ever find the way out?» he moaned. Every glow he encountered ended up hurting his shell.
The only things which are shining are artificial, and it burns like hell.
Flying at night, over and over...
These kids are so heedless. He used to be like them before he got trapped.
It felt so good though... Going on and on through the light beams
He didn't know if he was going to be able to keep up his flying
Life of a moth is short.
His heart was beating furiously.
