A bath of solitude

The world does not care about truth. The truth is one per each mind in world. The reality is relative to every eye which sees it. The eyes deceive. The mind takes deception depending on convenience. Convenience rules…

Love is such an easy old thing. Love is what you want it to be. Love is no more no less than anything else. Love is not you and her. Love is not you and him. Love is just love. If there is love. Sometimes not. Sometimes yes. Love is fire which burns you and you don’t have any idea of how, why and what for.

You and you. You with you. You for you. You from you. You by you. You through you. You and only you. You and nobody else. You sad. You happy. You yesterday. You today. You when? You and don’t know else. You tomorrow…

Here. There. At home. Or not. Far away. Close. In the neighborhood. Or maybe not. Thinking for yourself. Talking to yourself. Imagining. Guessing. Smiling. Laughing. Crying… Looking at nowhere. Nobody. Her. But she’s not there…

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