The better days

              Dearest you,

Some days nothing happens, other days,

Too much happens.
Then there are days when I sit aback from things et I wait, I wait for the skip of day to catch up and I sit out there et watch and I listen.

To the sounds of life, how it happens. How it tears you in its revered moments and somehow you find it in you to go in et on and watch lady time skip, hop on by. But she’s cruelle, she never ever stops time, even when you fall to your knees, panting for peace et pleading for more time,
to do whatever you may. Time to truly escape the whims of your destiny. Fog it is, they say lady destiny defiles time.
I bet she’s trouble inside out, but I sit et I speak aloud. I do write bit by pages, I think, je pense…

What if life were different. What if people were kind, what if you could do one thing in this broad world, one wish, one hope, one skip.

If you could trick time, what part, what would you skip the hands of time?

I shall want to bring back

love.

Why I’d ask her whatever so did she do to Romeo et Juliet. And however so did she deal with the man of the longest most remembered hour, of all our existence,

how did she deal with Sir

Shakespeare.
For I know that I may not be him, but I often think of love as a river bank,
she gives whatever the wind blows to her shores, as it stands, as it comes. For lady love is a rare kind, one that lives here no more. 

I should be not writing, but some things are evident, we are who we are non ou oui?

I shan’t decipher no more.

bonsoir,

RS