fantasy. flying. fire sparks from colliding swords. we were blown away; i was literally pulled in time by time, where life was surpriseful and expanding humbly, where enthusiasm were pure as clouds and skies and fields. when all we were worrying is life beyond the wall and what was next for them. nights are days and accelerated time is everyday. to live by only hands and eyes and imagination. fantasy. the most sincere deed to pull out the longing we thought we never had- but we always do. the most gratifying effort to reach as many hands into their vessels of wonder. longing. guessing the width of the endless gleam and fields, guessing how far we would soar if we can. guessing how to keep them not flying, how to recall every hauls of relieve and thrills of choosing. longing. fantasy. before and after the wall.