Multitudes
Of a bastard line.
- Joined
- Nov 27, 2005
- Messages
- 9,278
- Reaction score
- 2
I Place my self comfortable alone in a cafe, people come and say hello to me, I feel attractive, wanted, flattered. But she is not there, I call her in my thoughts so she can protect me against this self-comfortableness which is spying on me. I shout out for her "truth" (the truth she gives me a feeling of) against this seduction-hysteria, which I'm feeling that I'm sliding in to. I make her non-presence responsible for my mundanity, I shout out for the other to protect me, to return, let her appear again, let her, like the mother who picks up her child, take me away from the mundane sparkling surface and social self-absorption, let her give me back the world of loves holy intimacy and gravity back...