Sunday, July 2
quite suddenly and sullenly, the years were rolled back, to the days where to him, the presence of gods were but an overrated myth. he had been derided, but rarely disproved. a very willing believer in fact, but his faith wasn't allowed to flourish.
all he had found were of so low quality it was almost worthless. he thought he had, maybe quite literally, struck gold. it did appear that way, until the elements of reality, time, space, all came into view. and now he held in his filthy hands pieces of 'treasure' that he knew, much as he hoped for things to be different, would be reduced to nothingness in time to come.
in an isolated corner of his heart he still believes that maybe, magic is still alive, and the gods really are there. it's clear that the jostling between faith in the unknown and reasoned logic in his own intellect, however, has only one clear winner. he still wants to believe in the unbelievable, anyhow.
maybe it's all fading away though.