Life is too short for boring stories

Nothing will ever be the same again as it was before. I will never again be the way I was before, just as I was just now, because there was an encounter between the just yet and the now.

What happened? What would I have to report? Nothing, nothing more than that things took their course, unaffected and unimpressed, stubborn and mind-boggling. The world was the same, just now and now, only my world, had completely disappeared. In all silence and calm, with a little movement that gripped my hand, you whirl through me like a whirlwind, turning the bottom to the top, blowing the dust out of crusted thoughts, giving me a new view, treasures and secrets, possibilities and ideas , Of which I did not even know that they existed.

You entered in the encounter in my life and in me, gently and cautiously, and teach me to see anew. It was just this, and I am sitting here on my footbridge, looking around at the familiar scenery, and it is as if I saw it for the first time, and I saw it for the first time, for the first time with the eyes of the one who had befallen by an encounter, who had been befallen by you. No stone remained. No habit stood up against the onslaught of the tender acceptance.

It was just as it was now, safe and sound. Now they are torn open again, the old wounds, which are merely scarcely connected, wash themselves cleanly, and your healing hands lie down on them, to get rid of them from the last rubbish, without shyness of being stained by my yesteryear, to be able to accept my today. To heal the wounds, with your kiss, and the scars that remain, reminiscent of the just yet. They should remain – and if you can accept me, in my vulnerability, you will take me as I am. You looked at me, and I knew you were not making any compromises. You accept me, in my despair, as well as in my vitality.

Just yet, everything was still so normal, and now, after the touch in the We, now I have lost the way out of sight. Or did he simply shut himself up because he was still the one of the just yet, who is no longer in harmony with the one I am in the now? Found the one way closed, and could not yet take a new one. And the security faded. Was it really true, this between the just yet and the now? Was it perhaps only a wonderful, serious dream? I involuntarily pulled myself together, and as I put my right hand on my left shoulder, I felt a short, piercing pain. Here your touch had burned itself, burned deeply into my flesh, and I knew that it was true, that between the just yet and the now.


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