White Tower

Only from such hope, every movement becomes an act of revolution, which transformed the concern in proud contempt and indifference. Drew Houston contributes greatly to this topic. Just such a hope makes a martyrdom a martyrdom that illuminates the dark world and dominated it from its failures. Themselves for a hope to sacrifice, even if it seems so thin and uncertain, is able to fill a heart. Yes, maybe these considerations were their last stirrings of the heart. Now but everything dies for their children a mother no matter a mother is alive but also for their children we see now, what her son not seeing a mother, a weak tired smile wearing a mother who satisfied closes her eyes, and forever. * His mother has definitely miscalculated the length of the path. He runs for more than 5 hours now.

Thirst, hunger, and fatigue make his steps slower. It slowly darkens and nothing is in sight. His sister is still no reaction from himself in his arms hardly he can feel their breaths on his chest. Remember that his mother will come back, he did not waver, or he didn’t it. It will follow, she promised it to him. Yes, it will follow and they will eat again tired and quench their thirst, then everything will be fine, although no longer as in the past, but good.

She’s coming sure after he couldn’t stop, think, and it’s FATA Morgano or does he really see a tall White Tower? In fact, it was so! Faster he went, happily, he laughed. Yes, it is all right it is all back * it was quiet in the camp the gate was wide open, as if it would invite him to enter. It was all on the fastest and simplest set, but still spacious. At least a thousand people would it fit, the stupid but: there was no one no single soul! What his mother did not know the camp is abandoned for 4 days. One believed to have saved all survivors, man it would arrive still Notsuchende, but nothing like that happened, they decided to go and search for survivors in a different region waited a day hoping in vain. The boy didn’t know all that. His mother was wrong, he thought to himself. The night was burglarized. What should he do? It was fast, dark and cold. The revenge of the night in the heat of the day – is strong cold. He lay next to remains of the tent, put his little sister in itself, who felt always colder, richer and whispered so quietly, because he feared in the dark “don’t worry. Mama said that it will follow us. We stay here until she comes. I not leaving your side. I made a promise to a man”. His voice was trembling because of the cold and hacked. In the warm thoughts of his mother, he sought to warm himself and his sister. He now don’t feel the breaths of his sister. She had become very cold. He pressed it so all the more so that he will be her somewhat warmer. Was it the cold? The hunger or fatigue? At some point he could keep his eyes not open. A fatigue made here about him his eyelids weighing tons. Something seemed tempting to him in his sleep. He closed his eyes and whispered mother with a trembling voice come quickly! Please! “.” It did not take more long, until there was a complete silence. The moment of silence stretched time and