I must say it again. I am sorry and I am happy to hear that I was a gentlemäh, and that I was honest. It was warm that summer, and exploration could use some heat. This I got, and I know I got it. For the first time there was laughter, when we drove each other to the corner of our souls. What was there to see but stones and geometrical shapes of the heart? It was like we had met before, because who in their right mind would be so young and use this kind of terminology? Why couldn’t I  just stay and talk? Was it about me at all? She said there were no expectations, I knew, there was no map, no warning , just two sheep in this soul’s corner, throbbing with liveliness. She didn’t speak words that were needed to give it the color it had. Three and blue.

Once she took me to the store. It showed all kinds of samples, ranging from Dijon mustard yellow, to lavender province blue, but also there was petrol blue, aqua blue and arctic blue. We chose deep orange, shallow orange was off the market. If there had been conversational green that would have been perfect, but this was just one soul, so some loosening of ties was necessary. Without the walls, there was nothing to see here, she always said, so we needed boundaries for this soul, for it to show himself. The paint wouldn’t hold though. This we got. So walls were pulled, like teeth. And we painted to cover the day. We even painted ourselves, so we could disappear. I knew we didn’t have much time left.

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