薬 propecla darkkaura @ 2007-11-18T12: 08:00

clear. I do not pretend that nothing will ever be as before. That's absurd. Things can never be as before. It would be like trying to breathe underwater. But just one afternoon. To ask how things are, how they are going. To tell you how stupid we were. To not tell you how guilty I felt. For not tell me they did not think it was my fault. To laugh again, sounding, very low, in laughter, what fools we were. What fools we were. several days I've been trying to write this. I can not decide. You know. A brief summary. Although the problem is not that. The problem is that I wanted to dedicate this to a clock. And I never liked watches. But this will give him a truce. Why not measure the time, it measures the expectations, the certainty or uncertainty, reunions, hugs, trains. Way stations, they say. Arrivals and departures. Travel. Or the meeting after the bus ride. Because the best time to go there's just before. Maybe I say it is ugly. But it is. So. The path of the bus stop shelter clock slowed the outside world. I told you I missed. What is not said is that I suddenly found myself in another world, as if he had gone through a large window invisible in the air. I noticed it suddenly. The hectic pace of downtown suddenly stopped at a street, in a parenthesis, where people walked slowly, in slow motion. And that was contagious. Street began somewhat faster, yet with the accelerationsufficient, but perhaps I was not enough. Overall, the later arrested there on a clock you do not have the time, and then us and unpredictability, surprise, surprise. We discovered that the moon was a satellite, talking to his invisible figure, but this, laughing at the table with an army destroyed by robots, coffee, soft drinks and potato. I think on the clock. That clock that marked the impatience, the evening, some Saturday mornings, pinching to remember, notices of arrivals, the waiting, the awkwardness of the meeting, reunion. The station clock, you know, do not mark time.