Being with Her.

 

It is an experience to be considered an edifice amidst a cluster of infinitesimal buildings. One may consider it as the outcome of being in love in the first place. It is a strange feeling for sure, for she is in a way the river deep in the flux of which I would love to meet my paroxysm of death throes. We are now sitting, I approach her and, hand-crossed, start contemplating her as she speaks with a tone I have gotten used to. Now, we are two metaphysical beings amidst an array of unimportants who utter incomprehensible sounds. Her words are the only thing I understand, and I think it is the language spoken between us that is rarefied. Whenever our hands meet and touch, a whole new world opens and recovers itself before my eyes, it is called the future. As for her, I do not know what happens. By the time each one has to go home, I think : Remote from her, life is surely but a desolate gorge of pebbles, grotesque visions, and idle feelings. She heads home and I head in the opposite direction. My hands grow cold yet sweaty while my breath shortens ; that means one of two things : being in love, or having  anemia.

Oussama Benayad,

01/02/2017

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2 thoughts on “Being with Her.

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