An Aspect Of Love, Alive In The Ice And Fire

In a package of minutes there is this We. How beautiful. Merry foreigners in our morning, we laugh, we touch each other, are responsible props and posts. A physical light is in the room. Because the world is at the window we cannot wonder very long. You rise. Although genial, you are in yourself again. I observe your direct and respectable stride. You are direct and self-accepting as a lion in Afrikan velvet. You are level, lean, remote. There is a moment in Camaraderie when interruption is not to be understood. I cannot bear an interruption. This is the shining joy; the time of not-to-end. On the street we smile. We go in different directions down the imperturbable street.