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Life is too short for boring stories

… then it is as if time stands still, for that one moment of connectedness, how one has fallen out of time, and the world, just to be in your arm and breathe and feel your heartbeat very close to mine, the warmth of your body and the peace of life that understands itself.

… then it is as if all suffering, all pain and all torment, experienced or narrated, suddenly become wearable, and the world, which seemed just before nothing, as a collection of mistreatment and death, shows me the possibility of tenderness and togetherness and familiarity, oases of well-being and simply life are allowed.

… then it is as if every single moment of failure and betrayal has been erased in an act of familiarity, and the world, full of wars and arguments and unfruitful disputations, appears in the silence of wordless understanding, in mindfulness and sensibility that still exists, but is very hidden.

… then it is as if all requirements and demands are fulfilled in one go, because I have nothing, need nothing, do not need anything, because everything is, and the world, which constantly whispers to me, what does not do everything, is done, mastered must appear like an invitation to just be there in this moment of overwhelming, all-talking silence.

… then it is as if I could breathe freely, in the bond with all living things, which lies in this one little gesture of tenderness, and the world that alienated me, with all its materialism, shows itself in its fullness and its wealth, in its gifts and presents, which it distributes as freely as you in your embrace.

… then it is that I lay my head on your shoulder and close my eyes, because I cannot be anything but there, feeling, breathing, in that understanding, that embraces everything, and banality around us becomes vain and everything, because they are in we are as alive and seducing to life.

… then it is as if all thoughts of resentment and aversion and separateness vanish, as if they had never existed, and the world knows nothing but greed and envy and isolation, telling everyone that he himself is to blame for his fate, shows itself as supportive and helping and accommodating, because that too exists, yet mostly unseen and unheard of except by those who feel the hand that helps them.

… then it is as if my heart becomes light, because there is nothing that cannot be overcome, mastered, nothing that is so oppressive that it would not be lifted in your embrace, and the world that turns cold and dark, bright and clear, as when the sun breaks through after a heavy blizzard, where the sun’s rays sparkle in the snowflakes.

… then it is as if there had never been a debt that could not be redeemed by the care and devotion, and the world that seems to know nothing but guilt and atonement, sin and punishment, becomes a benevolent and accepting, like a mother in the unconditional love of her.

… then it seems as if there is no meaning and nothing more, needs interpretation, in this moment of unambiguousness and doubtless freedom, and the world that had rejected me because I am different, seems to me a place to show where even I find acceptance, just as I am.

At some point your arm releases me again. I could not say how long it was, though I am aware that it was nothing more than a moment when the whole of life, in all its liveliness, united and left us, just being let. Once I smile at you before I go, out into this world, which can no longer make me afraid, because I take it with me, this one moment when I was in your arms, as my protection and umbrella, the one made me invulnerable.

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