photo: Karin Bussy BromanI met you out there, and the sun was actually up and the trees were in numerous colours and just bright. I hadn´t seen you for a while, neither in real reality nor on the internet, you seemed more fragile than I´d remembered and though I´d sat down on a park bench you resolute forced me on my feet to an embrace.
If you read this, you´ll probably remember the moment, and I don´t mind, it´s strange now, how your appearance go straight to the emotional spot somewhere inside of me and stays there, evolving itself into a stubborn feeling of despair.
What is it that surrounds you that needs to burst out in the air but remains somewhere in between, never having the guts to let go, it glows like invisible radiation, but I sense it, only too severe.
You are swirling around in transcripted light, to keep the stir in your head just a stir. Because the truth is too fearful and so appalling, thrusts through your bones like acid could do, on the tip of the arrow, follows you like appearences of vicious ghosts. Once you put things in order there will be room for the intangible, better keep it going and hope for the gusts of evil to find another path to stroll.
I might be wrong here, of course, this is only in my head, but as it comes along everytime your energies mix with mine, and I can´t but believe, you long for something, and it surely isn´t me.
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