It all seems unreal. Maybe it always was. It was you who gave it a bit of sense, anyway.
And after...
It became a place for my ineffectual howling, with a slowly growing voice.
A voice of reason against darkness, it tried to be. A refuge of laughter and a shelter of beautiful things, an exchange point for creators.
A shelter for loneliness most fundamental. The empty bit of road by my side, where you were not.
An endless world of worlds to roam, like Diogenes, only searching for a true friend AND the lamp.
And I found you.
And I'm not exactly on square one.
I post "Angis Fragilis", with the illusion of a shared sighting with my daughters... And I see the translation I put.
The universe is royally fucked up. It feels like it conspires against each word coming out of me.
I put a few false laughs, back to the foxhole. The next antelope I shoot will be me.
That's certain.
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