Let's detach for a moment.
I wish it was that easy.
Perhaps, I come off as too personal. And maybe we don't really want to know one another.
Another modernist flaw.
I spend my nights staring at the bed above me, trying to find the future in the grains. My evenings are spent trying to force thoughts through motions.
How about you?
Am I being too personal?
Maybe we'll wait another day to say words as dissociated as possible.
Maybe you'll see through the words and truly understand the book.
Detach.
It is the beginning of the last chapter of this book. This series feels like it can fill a book-shelve.
I dislike books that make you cry, but goodbyes are always hard.
It may even be a farewell.
And I sing
I just want to swim.
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