By Shion Aikawa

It only takes a shuffle from a ledge, of a couple of bad lucks to direct an individual’s spirit, rolling it down the hillside into the dark valleys. The fall is soft and one never realizes how thick the ground is from the moss of the grass. You are presented with a thick fog as you begin to stand up — a fog as thick as a duvet meant for a cabin in the high mountains. Taking a step is heavy, and you’re never surefooted, having you wonder if taking a step at all is worth the anxiety of losing your balance. All this makes you confused about where you had come from, and how if you’ll ever…