Their_Echoes

Tory~
I remember a time when I was younger; everything inside a book seemed to come alive. All sorts of things would come out as I read. And as I progressed through the plots, they would grow.
But as soon as the story was done they would vanish. And as time passed and war broke out, my memories of them started to fade until they became faint echoes.
Now when I read a book it is full of words and words only. My imagination is merely an echoe as well...




but it's still there