her past was mine, the spirits desire, like a heavy wood clock on the wall, a moonlight tied my soul to hers, a threshold on hold… I drank from her glass of water, saw her eyes tighten, giggling from my stupidity, … this rejected lotus among many… “It was dirty”, they told me, the northern river, where she was born. A second chance without her presence, a second life after I have been banished, her heartbeats was my beauty, looking at me, it was me, it was solid, and she was really happy. An Allegory about love? An untold story that had to be obtained as those hands on that clock? I just wonder why now.
