Lingering. Hoping. Longing. Still holding on... Enduring the rain, the silence, the endless uncertainty. And somehow, finding another little opening of light... Perhaps it takes a certain kind of madness to keep searching when you no longer know what you are searching for... Perhaps it takes foolishness, or hope, or love, or simply a heart that hasn't learned how to give up. Or perhaps none of these... And so, this little mad poet is still here… Standing alone on a forgotten island, staring at the post box, waiting for something she can no longer name... A letter? A way home? A piece of herself? She doesn't know anymore... She only knows that she is still here, holding a key to a place she can no longer remember... "Where is here? What am I doing here? What happened? What was that mirage?" And still, beneath the endless rain, she searches...Only for a little opening of light in this strange, little, lost, and wandering world...