Free

man is never free
from the common pull
of grounds, the comfort
of fake smile,
the intoxication of
sweet words,
the warmth of bare
sex, the centre
of himself

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So this is where I end up. The other day KL blurted out of the blue: Have I given up? On marriage, or love, I guess he meant both, considering the context of our conversation. Thoughts in multitude stormed through the door: no, too fast for speech. Too late -  the genesis flashed past into wildness of the years gone. I only shook my head. Now, all calm, it all comes back to me. Through some back door. Vaguely. Like a ghost standing, waiting, forgotten, in some dark corridor - I wouldn't have noticed it if not for some fidgeting. Then again, it really doesn't matter, does it? I already knew then: it is a one-way ticket. And I took it gratefully. I was lucky. Or unlucky. It depends on how you look at it.

Once in a sweet while, your eyes linger just a little longer on a stranger's face, and wonder what it would have been.

And in that sense, I am never free.

P.S.: I think this is going to be one of those posts that years later, I would read through, and think "What the hell am I saying?"