This odd feeling of writing for oneself and everyone at the same time, a feeling not unlike these dreams where we walk naked in the middle of a crowd, but no one notices...
I am on the egde of a precipice. About to fall in, a fall experienced so many times before, and that had always left me bruised and damaged. Why would I want to fall again ? Does one have a choice or are we, in this matter, as bits of irons caught in a magnetic attraction ?
A necessary folly that brings colours and fire into one's soul, delusions also. And ultimately, pain.
I should know better.
And start falling all over again...
The dream resumes.
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