I look at both of us and I don’t recognize any „ we”. I don’t know when time has created such big synapses, but they seem to look more like hourglasses. Either we are at the same point and I feel your every thought either we are on top of our parables and the silence builds craters.
In what twisted world do we live in, that we just can’t honestly talk? We are talking in anecdotes, sarcastic sayings and empty words. What’s next after this? Is it a bigger parable or a common point of view?
Sometimes I love silence, because it unties me from everything. But in the same way my heart isn’t tied to you anymore, and her weight is unbearable. I can run easily among my thoughts until the loudness of the silence makes me deaf.
And the silence is so loud sometimes that only a smile may rest it. Or, it may rest between the two arms, where I felt myself, but all that remained just a fantasy.
Tell me the language, the words, so that you can hear my soul. Tell me the way that our silences could talk, and the parables can become a straight line. Tell me everything, by saying nothing…