A scientist once said that a human soul, on average, weighs about 21 grams: a soul of 21 grams, staying inside a body, for 525,600 minutes every year.
I wonder if you ever realise that. We move from a place to another carrying it around.
How fragile is a soul? Enough to be broken apart by an expression too harsh, enough to be mashed to nothingness when a dream is destroyed, enough to be exterminated when the things that we believed in for a long time were actually blasphemous, all enough to fade and disappear.
21 grams of soul, hidden somewhere in the dusty corner of a body, too damn fragile, too susceptible to every threat, too easily satisfied by petty achievements, too lonely to be happy.