Let live by the sweet newness of our experiences

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Much can be said and much has been said about matters of my core, whether intentionally or inadvertently. Regardless of mine own opinion of myself, the fact is that not much can be further said without already digging up the carcass of yesteryears. Reaching a crossroads, something not totally alienating and, in a way, already tainted with hint of perversions from living. It is not a complaint but rather an indictment of truth. Somehow my matter of factness antagonises that with mine relationships with other people, particularly with Ani. We stand tall in between transgressions; too early to tell, but my optimism is in outstanding merits.

The pain that was injected to her intraspiritual being manifests itself too often. Scars of the days before I came. An all too common story for the common man. I have no idea how to fix hers, nor do I assume that I can, we can both simply live our lives as if we were ignoring what was practically huge chunks of our lives absent one another, because if you think about it enough, it hardly matters after all. But do not tell her that. Sometimes we let live by the sweet newness of our experiences.

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