useless minutes but at least a genuine effort to procrastinate with style. tango filling my restless soul with the un-nameable and memories and longings dance like reflections in a dark window. the room is dimly lit and I have no fear.
where to start, that's the question. pack luggage for the trip to frisco/mammoth? clean apartment? go dancing? or just dreaming away on the fluffy eiderdown my love brought last time he visited?
we are not living together yet, life is taking us in different directions. it's funny how little control we have in the end. and it's funny how much we can accomplish if we genuinly try.
it's like tango, i guess, you have to dance. the dance between faithful guidance of whatever is supposed to be and of creating your own destiny.
basta
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