Every meeting is
parting, in reverse.
Between a shy yet interrogative glance
and a solemn, wounded face lies a
broken narrative, and even more broken
characters who do not know whether to
kiss or use their lips to release their
beloved’s name from their vocabulary,
forever relieving themselves from the
anxiety of waiting for an answer, of
waiting to be together in the naming
of things. Such
a simple
mechanism for so much delirium; the
bond of encounters and goodbyes, their
mutual attraction and their ultimate
destruction to the passive participants
of the story. Every
meeting
is parting, in reverse—every greeting is
a long farewell.