September is nearly over, for days and
occasionally hooded by the sunny skies overcast. Unbearably hot sun and wind only
increase the heat of the sand ridge on the streets since dawn, then carried
along the air while the grass, the trees, crowded and hectic of urban life.
Grass and trees covered by the dust, sun was baking the streets such a way that
creaked when stepped on.
As the rain with no wet, there is no grains of
the water on the ground, it is still increasingly drying up. Similarly, his
heart, the wistful little man, not recognized and left by the people whom he
loved in the absurdity of alone. Night after night, dark bodied sag in the dry
air, dismiss any solace that glowed in his tone full of lyrical. But the
night was ecstatic about the ultimate silence, the drops of light left in
silence, find an empty situation in the absence and in the crevices of the
wind, the monologue trees, the glow of slime worm, the black veil crowned in the verse
of the universe, anyway the veins and the blood still continues to fuel the breath by the
composition of the air.
"Now you cannot really say ..." a
voice bounced off the edge of the window, breaking the silence.
"I do not want to defend myself; at least
you can understand me like I understand myself, regardless superficially
problems. You said I have treated her with undue? "
"Yes, indeed you should guilt and
blame."
"I do not know why all of this to end like
this, maybe because I'm a fool, I did not understand what a woman is, or maybe
because I could not seduce her, and perhaps every poem that I ever written was
differently understood by her, or because I'm too much as like a coward who
fear about the issue of love. I do not know. "
"Hah! Do you think to be loved by someone
as good as a lover? And if men get love, that's enough for the rest of his
life? "
"Yes, perhaps, it is shockingly enough, for
me."
"But why did not she feel the love like you
too? Love is too absurd, false, and just easily in a word, nothing true in this
age, no matter, no imaging through the display. Why we do not love? Because he
did not come, that's all. Unloved is a bad luck. Unfortunately when we cannot
deliver something we can give. Oh, my God. "
"Suppose all occurred in reasonableness, no
mess, no way we are, but in her own way! Why as if I had stolen the love? Do
you also think like that, is not it? All things silly and scary that had done
all my life-that sort of thing-in number is the only one I do not have to
regret, either at the beginning or after, I never lie, to myself anyway to her,
I felt in the end, I will fall in love again, but I know this is an
unconsciousness mistake, and probably not the way to love, I do not know, and
she knows, she cannot be blamed, however, love is right, it is a kind of
freedom. All that is too late, and I do not know what else to do ... "
"Yes! It's all over now! "His friend
said, while lighting a cigarette. "In fact, you had never loved, and did
not know what love is ..." he added curtly.
"Never say loved! Yes, that's right; I do
not know what love is! I'm thinking about the feeling to love, and nothing is
more powerful than when I met her. But, what love is there? There's always felt
incomplete. Ah, well! What's the use of talking? I have been make a chaotic
confusion of life! Perhaps it is true, and I’ll try to re-open a new
sheet. "
"Hah, you're going to mess up again, I
think!"
He was away from his contemplation, for air, the
fatigue, and in a semi-circle of reflecting shimmer without an absorption beam.
The man was never more selfish than when he felt the spiritual ecstasy. At that
moment he felt, he had nothing more interesting than himself and the Other--the
silence, and the quiet that untouched by the ordinary logic.
He walked across the narrow alleys in this city;
he was going through a long steep road and swept there. Just around the dark
and silent, his soul was filled with a stack of memories, a glance of love, a
pang of regret, and the residual sad feelings and fun [...]
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