I’m just talking about people loving people. The heart that hasn’t been born yet, and the heart that has already left as well, a person’s heart that has to embrace all these is the most difficult, I think.
Loving someone doesn’t always mean sharing happiness. But the choice is up to each individual…But what’s for sure is that if you choose love, you won’t be lonely. Because the shining moments when you meet other’s eyes, and eat with others, and smile for them will compensate for going through all troubles to protect love.
I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, that I didn’t know who I was…I was far away from home haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared, I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost…I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then that strange red afternoon.
…because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing…but burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night.