Beauty

What cannot be completed is often beautiful.

Like the book borrowed in youth and never finished, the old friend never met again, the journey that was not perfect enough, the words that cannot be taken back, the promise that cannot be completed.

These uncompletable things become reefs in the flood of time, which cannot be washed away; they bear witness to all that once existed. They leave you with a bone stuck in your throat, with awns pricking your back.

In the afterglow of dusk, in the dreams of the small hours, among the fragments of time, I say goodbye to you all again and again, and share with you my most secret thoughts.

I want to tell you: you are forever my friends.