At the end of the lecture, a buffet opens. I suck the figues while looking at him. He’s not that hot, but he’ll do. He seems afraid of the daring attitude. I think for a second that my reputation as a young-trying-to-be intellectual in this city is at risk if I give away myself too easily. But I have a book to write, and I have always been really terrible at coming up with fiction. To experience the real is the only way I have found to be able to write or create. A sort of proof-of-concept to getting to know myself better, as my astrologist said.
An answer which left me misunderstanding the phenomena, but sounded good enough to end this conversation. As we walked down the hill, I can’t help but question again the mechanisms of my body and mind, and how dreams only realize themselves too late. He doesn’t seem to understand it either. Why, if individuals get along, can have endless conversations, and additionally once desired each other, why can’t they simply enjoy each other’s presence physically and intimately presently as well?
I try to things of things to say to comfort him. But I soon realize it’s none of my responsibility or duty. The light is slowly disappearing in the surrounding hills, leaving some tops of the mountains apparently brown.
-Why are some of these mountains looking so dry when others are filled with trees, or even snow?
-It depends on how close they are to the sun.