There is a name for no name.
I now knock your door with much less preconception than, say, two months ago. After all, panta rei hey - everything flows. The circle is broken, you said - some weeks ago. Then, sweet confessions, as we chew more hours in each other presence. We mark the time(s) as we transgress it. But last night, I have all the traces erased, part accidental, part brutal. Memories are nemesis. Knowing that it will end in some form of sadness. A little sailing, once I tried to give it a name. Act of labelling. But now, as doubt flashing, I shut the questioning. Panta rei - I whisper. Alles fliesst. A fine thing, moving. Let it be. Let it ..... BE.
[to hhg]
