Around every corner

I smell

a new surprise

the same

an adventure

a land

a place

~

to bee

If there is so little depth

in what you see and do

~

it all seems to…

When you walk through new streets

are the stones that carry you

there to bring you to where you want

~

or where you don’t want

I aim at you

is it because I can’t

take my eye of you

~

because you hypnotize me

or myself

The picture I have of you

have all the lines

come together

somewhere I can’t see

~

but I know when I meet you

it is all there

~

where I can’t see

We have a complicated language

with thousands of integrate words

~

but most often

a sign

a movement or gaze

a certain tone from the one you love

say at once

all that those words

can’t

At first glace

you look perfect

~

it’s the intricate beauty

that distracts

~

that’s why I see trough you

I miss part of the picture here

because I see double

If I look up

when I think

~

I probably look at the sky

with less distractions

~

sometimes I close my eyes

The door

is concealed

and surrounded

by brightness

~

you have to close your eyes

and walk closer

in its direction

11. The Pessimist of the Intellect.—He whose intellect is really free will think freely about the intellect itself, and will not shut his eyes to certain terrible aspects of its source and tendency. For this reason others will perhaps designate him the bitterest opponent of free thought and give him that dreadful, abusive name of “pessimist of the intellect”: accustomed as they are to typify a man not by his strong point, his pre-eminent virtue, but by the quality that is most foreign to his nature.