I just need some more time to pass in between my last message sent and this overwhelming, and highly revealing, quiet space to regain my sense of personal pride. This distance is leaving me cold while decreasing your relevance. The hard to believe part is that I still need to convince myself about the meaning of this interval, this interruption. I still have to translate these irrefutable facts into a language, the one the heart speaks, my heart. Yours is probably just fine, it risked and gave nothing still got, I dare to say, plenty in return, though it did not last long, the feeling has been quite uneven. Me trying to understand your everyday drama, me cuddling your cold skin, me providing company, me offering appreciation, natural admiration, though you are the kind of despaired artist that I don’t get, and, ultimately, skinny dipping in the sea, my sea, my waters, my very welcoming reception into my temple. Yes, today my body gains a sacred distinction, for it feels profaned as what gets taken for granted must. At the end, it is me left with the odd feeling and, yet again, wondering how I, again, got myself there, here, where I stand, empty handed, and also empty of wishes and desires. Apparently, I have lost a battle, my lack of competitive drive leaves me with no feedback, however, somehow, my brain does like to keep me entertained. Suddenly I remember the pod of dolphins I was lucky to spot from the deck of the boat today and how that made my day, over all, quite magical and random. Now, I hope for that extraordinary boost to help me feel less spent, less tired, of trying, of first encounters followed by a mere handful, and of the midnight hours hunger, inclination, eagerness, flesh lust and fascination.
Quite space. Short-story from 12 o’clock-tales and after hours thoughts. The book.
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