Perhaps, yet, and then...

I like my house. Just like I like my name.
I like them in the future and the present.
I have chosen them myself and we grew into each other.
The house. The name. The I.

I shall not invite you,
it is my space, not yours.
Yet,
the land next door is empty.
Perhaps,
one day there shall be a house there.
And then,
we might stand by the fence and talk.
We might even build a gate and go out from our houses and walk,
till we find another piece of land
and we make it our own.

The spirals.

It is like a drug.
I tasted it and my body is craving for more.
I wish I could tell you about the experience yet the dictionary failed to provide appropriate words.
Rollercoaster without fear.
Trust.
The whiteness of the cat turning to yellowness in the light of a night lamp.
My eyes chasing after my big toe as it runs to follow the rest of the body.
Residual awareness.
Muscles relaxed as physics and gravity found themselves to be in perfect constellation in the center of my body.

I need to breathe as the very memory of it makes me feel high.

Straight lines of the daily routine make me run for a blade that would cross them out from the pages I write.

Touch of the floor beneath my feet.
Spaces.
Spaces, spaces, spaces that are waiting to be filled with my movement and emptied again.
Discovered. Found. Rediscovered.

I covered my mouth pondering over the sense of the words I had written.
They fail to understand.

Only the spine still has some memories.
Fading.
Craving.
Dreaming.