The cold is blue with purple stains

We started this year unlike any other - not trying to find new ways to get angry at each other, but rather content with one. There was the fire in the snow, quite high, and I told you I'd like to jump over the fire, for good luck, and we danced in the dark while I sang to you "for those green eyes, I would drop my weapons anytime", and you smiled and put some more wood in the fire. We celebrated New Year's twice, three times almost, just to wish one another stuff in several different languages, and someone said she saw M. turning the fire around with her hands - I'm not sure she did, but I'm sure she could, if she would.
We are not one. It would be terrible if we were, almost scary.We are not one, but we are not different enough not to wish for such absurdity. Inner freedom begins with the joyful lack of necessity to be completely understood, or to understand another human being, ever.

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