That day a small piece of feather fluttered into my room.
Warm and fluffy.
The skies dark and gloomy, a stark contrast with the pure white feather. It was like what was left of a little ray of sunshine in my room.
I wonder if the birdie which dropped this piece of feather found a safe place to hide from the impending storm.
You know, when things got bad, we tend to cling on to shreds of things that we deemed as good, and tried very hard not to let go.
Little did we realize that it is really not letting go that is really hurting us.
Hiam 