Time's running out. Why are we lingering? Procrastination shouldn't be a way of life. I remember that night, exchanging glances from the corners of an unfamiliar room, a drunken conversation in a corridor, then a seemingly endless bus drive. Don't you sometimes wish life had a replay button?

Thinking of you takes me further into the past than you can imagine. Innocence has been forsaken, but love always transforms us into the children we never truly ceased to be. By love, of course, I only mean this mixture of hope, attraction and agony underlying the very first accidental encounters of two utterly dissimilar individuals, who turn out to be astonishingly alike.

A metamorphosis occurs behind the scenes; desire is only the tip of the iceberg. What am I saying? there is no why beneath the imperatives of separation; it was over before it began; still, there was no resolution, no culmination of events leading to some form of conclusion, no sense of closure to throw us naked and cleansed into the future's embrace.

As for me, I'm happier here; I don't approve of finales, anyhow.