When people think of angels, they see white wings, golden locks and fluffy clouds under them.
But when I think of angels, I see no wings but just normal pair of arms that feels like home when it’s around you; there aren’t golden locks but just jet-black hair that’s so soft when you run your fingers through; there aren’t fluffy clouds under him but his sunshiny appearance shines all over the place.
You see, I believe that some angels don’t appear in such a perfect form. I sometimes believe that they pretend to be humans.
— s.a., attendant spirits