it seems like a sudden gasping of breath as i rose from the depths of the ocean,
where the light shivered in ecstatic shimmers, luring me into its enchanting golden feathers.
A sudden gasping of breath as i realise that its a small pond im in , with my head dunked downward in a shallow pool.
A shallow pool that wants only algae on its surface, embellishing its sheen, ameliorating its face with a curly haired frond.
Why do i wish to shove my head back in the shallow weakness, and force myself to think that it is an enchanting depth im lost in, swimming in its magnificent glory?
Its a scene badly written, every one of my torrents of contact with a person on the other side. Its always an other side,
and now how much ever i want it, its so much more now, so much distant, so much more thin.
A flake, that covers the distance between us .
a flake that i want to watch and will it, like schopenhauer did, to thicken, the ropes to shorten, the paces to decrease.
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