Finding

Day #345, 5:45 AM.
I hate repeating words, I really do. I want to find her again. I know I have her, I will always have her in my mind. She will always be the desperate intellectual. Middle class, hard to impres, quite moody. The kind that is forever dead and lovely. But I want to find her again, you see? There is a crucial difference between finding and knowing. When I was younger, I was told by the old man that the moment I meet someone should be a work of art. It is the moment I will discover everything. Every fucking piece that humanity has lost and repressed inside the broken clock that is still ticking.
Did I say ticking? Yes I did. Your clock is ticking if you listen close enough. Seven times a day to be exact. Quite slow, you might tell yourself. But it is what keeps you alive to see that moment.
The first time you meet someone should be a work of art. It does not matter when or how. You make it into one. Because a moment later she is gone. She is a part of you that will never be found again. She will be lost till the moment you meet again. As if you have never met before. Say hello, like you have done thousands of times before. Have you said a real hello in your life? Introduce yourself. You know she has made up everything. Her every single smile is a political kitsch. Smile back, laugh. I love your hysterical laughs. You have to dream again. You know it is the time to dream again. Look at her, into her eyes. Tell her you feel you have lost her ages ago in that minefield. Tell her you are trying to put this puzzle together, and she is the part you had lost. The part you will find, and the part you will lose again. I hate repeating words. I really do. I have been always told that I should not repeat my words.
But I want to tell you again, the moment you meet her should be a work of art.

Photo by Kitsumumma