life is simple. it's a word problem. the text is read, the variables are identified, and then it's solved after a given method. the method is always contained in the text. there are beautiful solutions obtained through giant leaps of imagination, but there are solutions that follow step by step things learned before. it’s a simple mathematic calculation of probabilities, proven theorems and axioms. along side the calculated steps line after line, there are drawings laid on paper by the moments of boredom, lack of interest or daydreaming throughout the lesson we all should pay attention to.

i don't believe you can recall how it used to be when then in that couch we found refuge during the first night we reunited after many years being apart, when i buried my head in your abdomen knowing it shall bear the fruit of another, sometime, and i felt like crying. i knew it was a chasing after the wind, and then still i knew it had to be so. since then i feel you like a winter from back home in that room in which the temperature was too high although outside stones would be cracking with cold. i feel you in every bed that i lay, and every hair and skin i smell are yours. and those too are a chasing of the wind, for it has to be so. and when i shall be dust i still hope a grain of sand will land next to one of yours and they will speak. and this also is a chasing of the wind.

and the accuser has his part , as every trial has its role. it is the needed slap to not fall asleep, to solve the problem efficiently. and that's why someone said they hoped God would be merciful and kick our asses.

that's why every door that opens starts a current, but this also is a chasing of the wind. and as neither the door nor the window are the air, neither are we the things we start, but those we want to announce and confirm we are alive. and this also is a chasing of the wind.