THESIS.

The thing about easier truths is they do not involve us. They are obvious like the mountain on the horizon. I care little about them. What moves me are the unending details which make use whole.

Synchronicity between pulses, the size of our nerve ends, the ease and grace with which they hold the sum of the universe.

I remember battles fought by the tongue against air and flesh, stating:

*We are the Dreams others have of us.*

Fingers intertwined. I lay my hands on my lap, like I was waiting to catch myself. A young bird atop of a cliff. Every day is my first flight. Eyes closed, I can see the grey clouds, feel the unfavorable winds. It is not unknown to me that my kind was made to soar. Yet, despite their wings, not all my brothers have escaped the impact of the ground. Skulls comfortably sitting on blades of grass. \[…\] If I jump, it is not to escape death but because birds that stay in their nest were never born.



Malcolm. 29.01.24

It's okay to feel like you belong in the margins. Just be careful, this is where history is being writtten.

I don't trust them. Their dreams already have names, their idols never to be found in their reflection.

One grows not by improving
As were there superior blades of grass
One grows by birth, renewed
Come springtime, a choice;
What parts of ourselves to keep alive

And in time, alike, we flourish
A tree becomes a forest;
A sequence of mirrors
Unscatterable, negentropic

Where light shed upon you
Is in turn shed upon all of us

That's when you told me:

*From here you can see it*
*A Nation is but an excuse*
*To tend to a Gardern*

As sincere as I may come across, do not take my opinion as the last thought I'll ever have of you.

Every colour iris alike.
I recognize you under every mask.
Under every word.
And I wish you’d laugh
The moment we meet again.
To the sound of my name in this life.

Do you remember what it felt like to be a kid? Do you remember the splashing in the waters, the smell of a handful of maple leaves, the heat of the seat belt on your way to the beach? \[...\] Mom asked if you wanted gum, the air knew how to spell summer and now that your memories are finding you, all you can think of is the shame of having pretended that this was not the heaven you were looking for.

We talked, talked and talked. Philosophy, current events, music and our fears. It all came back to one question; "How do you manage to be you when you easily could be me?"

You couldn't have called it love but my desire for you stemmed from the fact that you were the light I couldn't shine, and in that way, we were inversely proportional.

Underlying, eventhough we took eachother for granted, the respect cementing our relationship was in fact one of our departures. I bet you were surprised not to see me, but to feel me leave.

What's worth awakening for? Why do you get up in the morning? Not for friends. Not for acquired loves, not for a career or for the opinions of others. You wake up to tell a story better than the last time you were awake.

Hypertrophic. Consciousness not of a higher quality but a different magnitude. The Many saying "I".  The only thing I'm looking for in our conversations: a space where our gods comfortably drink the tea of each other's presence.

I need not to think about it. The further I get from myself, the more honest I become.

\[...\] That's when you fully grasp the chasm between honesty and truth; I never knew that I could trust you but never for a second have you lacked my faith.