Silent. The little yellow flame calmly rests on top of the scorched fuse. You can almost hear it humming of joy with plenty of fuel to go through. He isn’t bothered by the certainty that their is an end to his life. The shape stays constant with only slight movements from right to left, back and forth when the air around changes of direction.

The inner core, closest to the fuse, for no particular reason looks transparent. As if the flame is hiding in that place. Going around the most inner core and revealing itself in full glory above. It shines proudly in every directions, illuminating each and every objects in its way. It doesn’t seem to care on which particular object. Giving warmth and precious light to each that need it.

Casting dancing shadows in the surroundings when the flame starts the flicker. Somehow it seems alive. The window is open. The air is disturbed with gusts of wind marching through the small space around. The flame is courageously attaching itself, with all its strength, to its source of power: the fuse. Perseverance, determined to remain alive, waiting for better times. It wildly dances back and forth as a ballet dancer performing its best act on stage.

Quietness. Peace. The flow of air takes a break unable to extinguish the candle’s life power. The flame returns to its neutral state. Humming away more lively and vividly then before. Awaiting the next breeze knowing that it can take it no matter what. It knows how to handle it. That the inner core has its strength, hard to distinguish.

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