One time. One day. One person. It doesn’t matter who, how or when. Just it can happen anytime, anywhere but not with anybody. Our story, which we are, what we’ve wanted to do? All are truth but can be a story. Story about getting to be. To be or to want? Who knows?
Writing at night can get mad a person. I think I got mad. It’s almost 5 a.m.
What we wanted to do? When I started to do, to activate or want to change the world? And now where I am and what I’m doing? Continue reading “does it make sense? 1”