The great quest of the other half, which of course I searched for in vain, made me
glamourize situations, people and patterns, and when I fell from the clouds, I hurt myself more than
others who had a stronger grip. Maybe I exaggerate a little, but you do so when your sentimentalism is
When things take their time distance, and when life gives its knowledge to you freely, others become
open books to you, which have only one reality: the truth you experienced, the truth you ached to
understand. Then the attitudes don't surprise you that easily, because they were you a little while
Nevertheless, I miss you. You are the essence of a carefree state of mind that
understanding of existence brings. I love you.