The sum of our longing gathers in our flesh like an immense ball of unexploded fireworks, full of all the shimmering colours that never were, of all the sparks that never resonated, of all the joy that never was.
We build delicate sandcastles on the shore of our desire, thinking they will last for ever but knowing too well that the next tide will soon wash them over.
Yet all the devotion, the care and attention we invest in these elaborate structures of sublime material, all the hopes and abundance of wishes and the frantic energies dedicated to the beauty of the instant, to the fragility of that grandest of folly - not even reflecting close the depths of our feeling...
The sea retires, the sand is left empty, and our longing , intact.
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