Bonn

A city so cold, that makes the heart so warm. The stillness of the streets on a Saturday night. One may mistake a city of 300,000 for a town of 300. No one person looks twice your direction unless with a purpose, that which requires a second look.  I wish I could have looked longer, a visual release.

What is to be said about something so short and sweet? What is to be said about someone so short and sweet? Do we need to be free if we are good? Are we truly free to make our own choices? It is as if these moments are predestined with no reason to explain their occurrence, simply a happening of the universe that is better to occur than to not. You may attribute these moments to fortune, but one’s fortune is sure to expire. You may explain these undoings with chance, but how is one to determine the likelihood of an event that the soul would not… could not predict until it unfolds? There is no question of these encounters, they only can be, so we must not question these events amidst their unfoldings.  In your company, there was no time to wonder, there was also no point in flexing the mind in this way, for a moment that was sure to end. And sure it was, for only upon the realization of this end does the heart fully express itself. It is the moment before death, the flashing of one’s life, the suppression of a flame. Words could never explain this anomaly. So we did not speak. I wish to have been silent with you longer.

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