where does it end and where does it goes? the lady with that rainbow umbrella walked on the street full of chestnuts, and didnt look at me. you laughed that it is not important whether somebody devotes a look , a smile or even a gaze to you. you looked at me, laughing, smiling, and that made a difference in the state of my own devotion to you. there is a lonely circle of reinforcement feasted on your face.
How would the world be different when we could recycle rainbow? And laugh at the death? And missing black and white color? Would we be missing also black and white thinking? When metacognition would be just a part of slippery shoes? When a sound would not matter? When love would be a metaphor for a lack of hatred? Or when life without you would be metaphor for infinite happiness?
The train of my own thoughts slips away from the walls of my creativity as digits are being lost when we do not carry money.
Saccades thrills the ripples of watery surface on the lake of you and me reflected in it