I saw glass eyes last night.Eyes so hollow as if they were directly tunneled into an oblivion of the eternal darkness. They seemed transparent, yet unabled to show any signs of vividness from inside. They emitted a strange metalic blueness, almost surreal to envisage that they indeed belong to life.
Completely being bewildered and even feared by those eyes filled with rampage and hatred, there was I still desperately seeking a hint of fullness, warmness, and celestialness that once plenished thereof.
Confronted with impetuous hollow eyes at the front and a helplessly sobbing wounded heart at the back, I was crushed by the same dilemma once Camus faced and dictated in his "Le Mythe de Sisyphe." Quickly going through the past few days to examine any occasions that would've fired up the misfortunate event of the night didn't particularly provide any clear answers to the profound distress we were facing; only discarding what we believed as a source of this viciousness and praying for the best were followed.
