“As you approach the time when you hear the sounds of oars in the lake of night nearby, you feel the longing to walk again the paths you have taken up to now, there in the world of the heart.
Hours, moments, that have sprouted, that have blossomed, that with another existence you had sown and brought to life. What if they have now lost their initial freshness. Inside you, they live as if it were yesterday, and like a child, you wish to lift them into the sky, inscribed on a kite with a whisper or a shell.
“Yes, those beautiful moments, up to now, were deprived of paper and writing. In the why and the thereafter, you always sought answers, without ever finding the responses unturned.
“And so, even if late, now bare, you reveal that a hug, a caress, a joining, a kiss, was the only meaning to the whys, waiting to reap in barren fields.
“Yes, a hug, a caress, a joining, a kiss, provide the response to what life is.” G. S.
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