A cynic that falls in love is like a walking paradox. A pessimist, who begins to paint the future in bright colours, has probably lost all touch with a once solid reality. At night, cicadas struggle to cover the noise of passing cars. This city's inhabitants have long given up
on sleep.
Did you think I was gone for good- and did it matter to you? For a while, I assumed I had nothing more to say, yet it seems I've been granted another fleeting promise of inspiration. A lot has changed, though I'm still haunted by innumerable ghosts. Would you care to be my imaginary audience once again?
The past few weeks have been so unexpectedly wonderful, it was hard to sustain my faith in the futility of life. Unable to find a reason for despair, I was inclined to mourn for the transient nature of desire, but all my attempts were spoiled by the stubborn and totally ungrounded belief that even better times lie ahead.
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
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