In Response To Another Polemic About Being Together

I told him, you know, they dont even believe in the technical procedure anymore?

Id spoke that somewhere, that possibilities are infinite and testing is finite, so all the faith we put in discipline is precisely that at some part we all want to close up our works and go home. So we call it a day.

He was rigid as I bent my figure around him like a koala clambering a bamboo tree. I wasnt sure if he was waiting to see where my hands would end up, or if he liked my argument.

I couldnt understand why he was so closed. Why he was convinced of our premature doom. Why this is the only way insured the stars as fixed moments and not the sky as a whole full of negative seat that made all the things that worked so much more beautiful in the way they mustered themselves into existence.

There was a poem I liked to read to him, because he was always so sad about failing. And it prompted the reader to be considered Icarus and his wax wings and where reference is descended it was a downfall of love it was because he firstly flew.

I guess that was the difference between us.

I could imagine myself flunking beautifully with the dignity of someone who has done the one and only circumstance we are called to do in this life: try.

But hes a “mens and” a defender by nature. He is simply watch the crashing into the ocean , not the jubilation.

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