The spring never fails

As I was walking home yesterday H would not leave my head. Irigaray using Levinas and Merleau Ponty to explain how come the touch can be an extension of seeing and being had just blowed my mind. I walked home forgetting the misfortunes of the day, under an almost rain and a sky that seemed to be very close to me. And it is also interesting to see how come some dudes just like to pretend to know it all, and they come talk to you as if they have all the answers of the universe, they pretend to read you, to know the meaning of your subtle¬†illiterate speech. I like to play with it. But no, I don’t need a Yoda.

As I was walking home under the “willing to fall” rain I remembered it all. A certain knowledge that is immemorial came back, or I came back.

But what makes me love her is exactly the fact that she shows me who I am. It is a sort of distorted mirror that you have to figure out by yourself what you see, and if what you see is actually what is.

And I got home and saw him, barely dressed, walking heavy in his lightness of being, touching the void like anybody ever did, and respecting it as it is, a deep hole with a meaning yet to be discovered. No meaning, perhaps an image.

The misfortunes of the day were almost forgotten when his barely dressed body came to me. To be in love is also to find yourself more than to lose it.



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