Post #131

From the word "void" one hears raw misunderstanding. "Emptiness inside, in the head, in the soul." I quickly realized that this was just a moulage. Void is never there when you’re a newborn mind, therefore, it could not be there now. I tore off the false mask from the face of the impostor, who pretended to be a void. It turns out, the “Saint nothingness” was nothing more than a tiny capacious callus. Any wound consists of treatment: "If the wound is dry — dry it; if it is wet — wet it”. And New York heard it. Soak. The downpour, the ocean, the fog. And I'm falling straight into the water. In the ice, in the tap from under the “Le Soleil” sticker. In a storm, oh that Atlantic Ocean. I'm in the water. Curling the sleeves of my sweater around my finger on my way to the green girl. These descriptions seized to exist. I healed myself with my own kindness. While putting my foggy gaze at her in the rain, I shed a happy final tear of a dissolved callus. What a strange magic.