SUBSTANTIATION

It may be the effort behind each breath, it may be the white cardigan. It may be the rain, it may be the mirror in which you see yourself. It may be the vast sky above your head, it may be the cup of chocolate in my hand. It may be the murmurs of the people of the city, it may be the wooden frame of a window. It may be the city itself, and the feel of me around you.

You (and I) admit, we seek comfort from the letters formed into words. They're evidence, are they not?