Two is also a number

I don't know who that is,
but I know that he is
climbing,
as I am sitting on the rooftop watching bats above my head,
flying,
with a trey in his hands,
carrying a cup of tea,
sweet, milky, stirred a number of times with a smile...
not in hurry as if buying a gift from a duty free shop,
but slowly...
wanting to spoil me a bit,
today,
knowing that what I do is valuable...

Both of us are lazily soaking in the gravity of these words.

Knowing that what I do is valuable because of who I am,
numbers are not the only story tellers of this world...
Two is also a number,
It's the only sold painting of van Gogh ... plus one...
It's the evening of feverish pain... plus one...
It's the chemotherapy needle... plus one...
It's the kiss of the dog... plus one...
It's the hand engrossed in soil... plus one...

It's a strict inequality sign  in love with changing directions,
no roles have been fixed,
it's flow,
organic,
Point.