domingo, 15 de febrero de 2009

Harry

Harry was a good willing man who used to put pins under my but so I could cry out his name aloud. And as his will was good, I did. He could not stand the idea of me caring for the horses, but he knew my sips were now long and it was for sure there would be few things that would make me change my mind.
He used to say: I’m just telling you the truth so you may remember you’re not in the correct place. Although deeply he was right, I never listened to his words because to many times they had been herd.
He tried hard to make me believe in his dirty name but I knew about sofists and I had already gone all over that. Some things would never astonish me again. I could listen to his straight down ideas and the way he used to explain them, but I did not believe, I found no god, I thought of love in another way. So it came to a good analysis of traumas, and not facing the old pained fears and, at least, it was distracting. Also a good fuck came from time to time.
Harry knew it was a just a deal with time we had come up to, for I was always about to leave. He was trying to make it up with money. I had that problem solved, so I just felt I needed to travel.

Maybe he would surprise me and gain a good deal of success.

I knew that if we made plans of crossing world over with our long distained discussions he would follow me without knowing that deep secret about a female slowly eating the cow. Concepts were just words and truth was hidden under a bed and it did run over our dreams. Still I did not believe a single word, not because of a bad intention, but because that innocence arose in his dammed old face…with the glance of not knowing who was listening at the other side.

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