the other day you called and you began thanking me. thanks and more thanks, you laughed, you were busy, you had no time, you called. i will always blindly take in the thanks and laugh with you. then i asked you what was it that you were thanking me for, and then we really laughed. to loose one's mind is a good thing, and those are the moments when we loose our minds, when we laugh there is no mind!
just the other night and exhausted i argued with another. he is right and i am right, and we argued! for all he knows, you exist only in my imagination, and there is nothing concrete or real about you. i understood his concern, and then i realised how slanted this storyteller is: a trickster, a magician. one omission, one fact untold, a gesture unseen and the story turns from the serenity of existence to drama.
how could the magician have forgotten?
