My sea is full of storms and hurricanes. Nights within the never quiet whirpools. Yet I seem not to notice.
It's most difficult to let go!... Most difficult is not to know, not to see, not to hear... It is the most difficult to see and be not able to help. He was twisting in his own thoughts, his own webs. And then he ran away. As if he was a hurting animal. I didn't have enough time to tell him. I didnt have enough guts to be brave!..
That never finished dance... The knots are untied yet they keep on holding. We run out of time together. Only towards different directions. So far I only need to pick up all the splinters, all the fragments. Fragments of a broken theater. Dead words are on the floor. My bora bora dream and our bermuda. We set the sails and eyes down.
For now that's it. I leave my visa in your passport. The knots are known know. Known is the way for forgiveness. There should be enough of sea shells, should be enough of coins.
